


Mother Henning

by EmeraldChick96



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: F/M, Freddie is sick, HIV/AIDS Crisis, M/M, Mentions of Abusive Paul, Not Paul Friendly, Over Protective Mary Austin, Over Protective Queen Members, Seriously I know nothing about the times I just love him, Short Chapters, not historically accutate but I tried
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:15:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 44
Words: 43,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27962906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldChick96/pseuds/EmeraldChick96
Summary: As his friends gather arround him and try to sheild him from getting ill and catching his death, Freddie Mercury feels... suffocated. He wants to go be young, wild and free like he was when Queen first got together. For christ sake, he is in his fourties not his late seventies. As the concept that AIDS has no cure begins to weigh on him, Freddie desperatly tries to cling to his care-free self. Frustrations rise as Mary and the gang tries to keep him well as long as possible, constantly mothering him, and he tries to live be happy, not reckless, but happy. Freddie's only concern's are Jim and Mary's happiness, getting his voice to work, and the caring of his cats. He is going to die anyway.
Relationships: Jim Hutton/Freddie Mercury, Mary Austin/Freddie Mercury
Comments: 9
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

“I want to go out!” stormed Freddie.

“You will catch pneumonia and die,” rebutted Jim.

“For Fuck Sake, Jim. I have an incurable disease that doesn’t mean I am dead already. Let me go out!”

“Freddie the doctor’s said-”

“I KNOW! But I haven't left the damn house in a month!”

“Fine, lets get you dressed for the occasion.”

It was a mild mid April night of 1990. Freddie had had HIV for three years, and he was about fed up with it dictating his life. All the drugs, all the doctors, taking it easy, the illness damaging his voice, raging hell on his body, Freddie was sick of it and he wanted a night on the town come hell or high water.

Freddie picked out some jeans for the occasion, a white t-shirt, and a black jacket. Simple, and plain, wouldn't draw attention to himself. He was wild on stage, but in real life, Freddie was the master chameleon. 

“Mary doesn’t think this is a good idea,” said Jim, with a cell phone in his hand.

“Mary can kiss my ass,” said Freddie, combing his mustache, and then his hair.

“He’s adamant,” said Jim to the phone. “Yeah, you know Fred, he does what he wants. Okay? No, I have no clue where we are going.”

“What bar Fred?!” asked Jim.

“That little retro place I love so much.”

“Retro on George” said Jim to the phone. “Yeah I know he’s crazy. We will swing by and pick you up in twenty okay?” He hung up the phone. “She's coming."

* * *

They swung by Mary’s house, who lived just a few miles from Freddie and Jim, and headed to the bar. As Jim drove, Mary sat in the back, and fussed over Freddie’s coat and scarf that Jim had made him wear. Finally, Freddie grabbed her hand and kissed it.

“You're my ex-wife, not my mother, darling,” he said, releasing her hand.

Mary smiled and rested her head on Freddie’s shoulder.

“I know you're stir crazy, but this is dangerous, Freddie,” she whispered.

“Life is dangerous, my love,” he said. “But you got to live.”

“We leave at ten sharp.”

“We leave when they kick us out as always, and stop mother henning me.”

They got to the bar and walked in together. Freddie grabbed Mary’s hand, and sat with her at the bar and Jim sat beside Freddie.

“What will it be?” asked the barkeeper.

“Water all around,” said Jim.

“What is the fun in that?” declared Freddie. “She will have a Gin and Tonic, Sour Puss here will have an Old Fashioned, and I would like a Vodka Tonic.”

“Coming up!” said the barkeep.

“One drink and then you are off to bed,” said Jim.

Rolling his eyes, Freddie replied, “Yes dear.” Freddie fished out his wallet and slid a quarter to Mary, “Go find us a song, love.”

Grinning, Mary danced over to the juke box and looked at the suggestions.

The drinks were served and Freddie took a swig of his Vodka tonic. “Love of my life” started to play, and Mary sauntered back over to the boys.

“I love this one,” Mary whispered. “No one ever has it. I think you wrote it for me.”

“I did write it for you,” said Freddie, and he grabbed her hand and led her to the dance floor. Together Freddie and Mary moved gracefully on the dance floor, and Jim looked on with pride. He and Mary were both chapters in Freddies life, and he was so grateful that Mary was there looking after Freddie with him.

Then when they got done, Jim assessed Freddie, and saw that he seemed to be in good spirits.

“I wonder,” said Jim. And he strolled over to the Jukebox and found ‘It’s a Hard Life’. Just as Freddie had written ‘Love of my Life’ for Mary, Freddie had written ‘It’s a Hard Life’ for Jim. Cheekily Freddie pulled him into a dance, and Jim tried to keep up with his partner’s entertaining side of himself.

“Relax and listen to the music darling,” said Freddie.

When Jim did as instructed he was able to dance easier, and keep in step with Freddie. Maybe Fred was right, and a night out was just what they needed. Fred had some colour in his cheeks, and a big smile. When the song ended, Freddie led Jim back over to the bar, and Freddie sat down with a smile.

“How’s your drink?” he asked Jim.

“Excellent as always.”

“Are you cold?”

Freddie slammed his drink down, “If someone fucking mother hens me one more time tonight, I am going to start sneaking out of my own house like a damn school boy!”

Putting his hands up, Jim shrugged, “Easy Fred, I’m sorry.”

Freddie turned back to his drink, when someone, not Jim, grabbed him roughly by the shoulder and spun him around.

“Leave him alone you, Jackass!” said the man, and slapped Freddie hard across the face.

“How dare you?!” cried Mary, and punched the man in his mouth.

“Alright that’s enough,” said Jim, getting between them. “Now, sod off.”

Mary, Freddie, and the man, started walking away from each other, and Mary fussed over Freddie again, looking to see if he needed some ice. For once Freddie was glad to be fussed over, and he was feeling rather dizzy and very out of sorts. Everyone thought the fight was over, but then Freddie heard the man mutter, “Fucking bitch.”

Now Freddie was a gentle soul, and never prone to violence. But he was ill tempered at the time, and this was Mary’s honor that had just been attacked. So, in a fit of rage, Freddie picked up a beer bottle and threw it at the head of the asshole who had just insulted his ex-wife.

Before Mary could scream, before Jim could defend him, before Freddie could defend himself, Freddie got jabbed in the mouth and his whole world went black.


	2. Chapter 2

A cat was purring on Freddie’s chest, and out of habit Freddie scratched it even though his eyes were not all the way awake. He opened his eyes and saw Romeo lying on his chest.

“Good morning, my love,” he said. He continued to pet the cat, and saw that he had an IV in his arm. “God, what are they doing to me now?”

“It’s medicine don’t you dare touch it,” came a voice, and Freddie looked over to see Brian sitting by the window. “How are you feeling?”

“Little sore, but nothing worse than going on a tour.”

“Good,” said Brian. “Cause I am getting ready to give you a bloody nose myself.”

“Brian, I am not a child.”

“Then stop acting like one, and take this seriously! God just a few weeks ago you want to show me your leg had grinded into a pulp because it was ‘Aces’. The doctors do not know exactly what you have but they know you have a weakened immune system. So for the love of god Fred, stop getting into bar fights. On top of that your fourty for fuck sakes.”

“He was attacking Jim!”

“Let Jim defend himself.”

“He’s my lover.”

“He’s a big lad.”

“I’m a big lad too.”

“Freddie, your-”

“What dying?!”

“I was going to say unwell.”

“I am fine, for fucks sake. Now get this thing out of my damn arm!”

“It stays in. It’s medicine.”

“God!” cried Freddie, and fell back on the pillow. Out of habit, he pet Romeo’s ears, who purred happily. 

“Whatever. Why did you even go out?”

“I feel suffocated in here. For once, I had the energy.”

“Well forget it. You are staying in bed-”

“Til I die?”

Brian said nothing.

“That is what is going on,” said Freddie. “Everyone wants to keep me nice and comfortable til I show up at the gates of hell.”

“Freddie, don’t talk like that.”

“Then why can’t I go out?”

“Freddie, why did you write the ‘show must go on’?”

“We all wrote.”

“Yes but why? It was your idea.”

Freddie said nothing.

“Because you are losing your vocal cords,” said Brian. “And you are getting too weak to perform. You're saying goodbye.” He took a deep breath. “Freddie you can't say goodbye and get us ready for the end, and then go out and act like your fine.”

“So what do I do? Stay here and watch London Burning every Saturday night? Find something for all the other nights? Condemn myself Jim’s cooking? Give the cats away? Will that make you feel better Brian?”

“No.”

“Then what do you want me to do?”

“Can’t you rest up for a few days and then we can all go out to the countryside or something. That is your problem Fred you think the only way to do something is to beat the shit out of it until you're exhausted. You don’t know how to rest!”

“I was bored.”

“That’s too damn bad!”

“Deaky!” said Roger coming into the room. “They're fighting again!”

“Of course they're fighting again!” shouted Deaky. “Freddie’s an idiot, and Brian is over protective!”

“How am I an idiot?!” demanded Freddie.

“You don’t have an immune system!” said Deaky, coming in with a tray of soup. “Here, lunch.”

“I don’t want soup.”

“You haven't eaten all day. You need to eat," ordered Brian. 

Freddie sat up and ate a little bit of soup. Romeo sat by his side and purred. “How long was I asleep?”

“A while,” said Deaky. “You left the bar at 11:30 and it's about 12:00 noon, now.”

“Have the cats been fed?”

“Yes Fred, to your specifications,” said Brian, annoyed.

Freddie coughed into his napkin, and small droplets of blood came into the napkin. Scowling, he threw it away in the wastebasket.

“Get Mary to call Dr. Peters,” Brian said to Deaky.

“No!” barked Freddie.

“Yes,” barked Brian.

“No!” barked Freddie.

“Mary!” cried Deaky.

Mary came gliding into the room in a blue summer dress, her blond hair bouncing off her shoulders. “Yes,” she said.

“Brian wants to see you,” said Deaky.

“Can you call Dr. Peters? Freddie is having a bad day,” said Brian.

“What’s wrong?” asked Mary, coming over to the bed.

“Absolutely nothing,” said Freddie, “You should wear that dress more often, love. Brings out your eyes.”

“He’s not eating,” said Brian. “He’s got a cough. I think that fight took a lot out of him.”

“No doctors. No needles. No nothing. Pack the mercedes, we’re going to Brighton,” demanded Freddie, trying to get up from bed.

“How about a compromise?” said Mary, getting him back in bed. “Stay in bed, eat something, let Dr. Peters look at you, and then we go to Brighton this afternoon.”

Freddie rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

The exam was alright. It was a complete exam, and it took a half hour with the blood sample. Freddie had a new bruise which the doctor gave him something for, and a rash on his leg that the doctor gave his nurse something for.

“So where are you planning to go?” asked Dr. Peters.

“Brighton,” Freddie said.

“For how long?”

“Not sure.”

“Well the bruises are probably from the scrap with the chap from the pub, and the rash, I suppose you could have gotten that from anywhere.”

Freddie nodded.

“To tell you the truth sir. Isolating is not going to help you feel better in the slightest, so if going to Brighten cheers you up. Go to Brighten.”

“My thoughts exactly.”


	3. Chapter 3

They took the Mercades, Freddie and Mary in the front seat, and Jim and Brian in the back. Roger and John were following them in Roger’s green Aston Martin. The fresh air and the rock and roll music from the radio was already putting Freddie in a better mood. They had rented a cabin, so Freddie could have privacy to be with Jim and his friends at his leisure. As long as the butler fed his cats, nothing should bother him.

The trip was two hours, and when they checked into the resort it was about four o’clock in the afternoon. Freddie grinned slyly as he let himself into the beach house, because everyone gasped at the unveiling. Freddie opened the door to a marble floor foyer with a crystal chandelier that loomed over the double staircase leading up to all the rooms. To the left there was a study made of mahogany bookcases, and a mahogany desk. To the right was a kitchen filled with every pan in the world. And through the door beneath the stair cases was a sitting room with a beautiful white grand piano.  
“Freddie,” gasped Mary.

“The rooms are nice and spacious too,” said Freddie.

“How did you do this on such short notice?” she asked.

“I called and said I am Freddie fucking Mercury and I will only take the best.”

Mary laughed. “Did you ask for the piano, or did they give it to you?”

“I asked for it.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“Play something Fred,” said Deaky.

Freddie walked over to the piano, and played a few notes. He played a few chords, just to mess around and started to play “Who wants to live forever”. Slowly he started to sing, but he hated the sound of his own voice and stopped, and went back to just playing the piano. When he looked up, everyone was gathered around him, and looking at him. 

“What?”

“Nothing Fred,” said Roger. “You just got a good voice and that song.”

“My voice is shit,” he said. “I am falling flat and getting pitchy.”

“Freddie,” said Mary. “Let’s go to the beach.”

“I am not allowed outside,” said Freddie in a haughty tone. “I might catch pneumonia and die.”

“Freddie,” said Mary, rolling her eyes. “Walk with me.”

Freddie grabbed her hand and they walked together out onto the beach. It is a little chilly and windy, and he drew his coat and scarf around him. As they walked in silence a little ways, holding hands, Mary guided Freddie down the beach. Maybe this would have been us, Freddie thought, if I wasn’t this way. We could come to the sea side and walk down the surf with our children. Maybe if I would have been…

“Freddie,” asked Mary, “What’s wrong?”

“I wish I could be normal for you Mary,” Freddie said, a tear streaking down his cheek. “Papa always wanted me to just be normal and I can’t.”

Mary kissed Freddie’s cheek. “Freddie, normal is boring, darling. You have said that all your life. I don’t want you to be normal, I want you to be happy. You love Jim, with all your heart, like you love me. That’s good. It’s okay.”

“I can’t sing, I can’t go out, I can’t fuck. Might as well be dead already.”

“Alright, how about this, as long as you're up for it, we go out to dinner everyone, every Saturday night. And you and Jim can go out and do something special just the two of you once a week too.”

“That’s all I am asking. Don't keep locked up in some room until I die.”

“Okay Freddie. Where do you want to go?”

“I am fine with being home every night, but just let me go out.”

“Alright, we can all go out. No more hiding. But you need to-”

Freddie gave her a look that she knew that he was cross with her. “Fine. I won’t mother hen you. Alright your Freddie Fucking Mercury, and you will do what you want. But if you would just-”

Freddie sighed.

“Fine do whatever the hell you want Freddie! We will stop telling you what to do. Is that fucking better? I don't know why we tell you what to do anyway. You always do whatever you fucking want. You didn’t listen to your parents, you didn’t listen to me, you dont listen to the guys, you don’t listen to Jim, and you don’t listen to the doctors, so do whatever the hell you fucking want!”

She broke away and started stomping up the beach back to the house.

“Mary!” cried Freddie. “Mary! Wait!”

She didn’t wait, and she continued stomping up the beach.

Freddie screamed in frustration, something he hadn’t done as a child, and he continued down the beach alone. As he walked he sang, but it was different without the rest of the band and his voice messing up. He wanted to be a normal fucking person, and just be still. Finally, he had an idea, and took off his shoes, and walked along the waves. The thrill that no one was telling him this was stupid was wonderful, and he waded a little deeper. Laughing, he started to sing "Fat Bottom Girls" as he danced in the ocean finally free, when suddenly something bit him on the right foot. 

Freddie got out of the water and looked at his foot. He had scraped something down his foot, and his skin had torn like paper. He suspected it would be a shell. Sighing, he got his shoes on and walked back to the house.


	4. Chapter 4

The house was quiet, and he heard voices in the kitchen, so he walked in, painfully on his foot.

“Hey, Fred,” said Roger, “Brain got us all some pizza, should be here in about fifteen minutes.”

“Sounds good,” said Freddie. “I got sand all over me, gonna take a quick shower.”

Freddie took the right staircase to his and Jim’s room in the back of the house. Freddie sat on the bed, and laid down on the comforter for a moment, just letting his body rest. He let his eyes drift close as he thought off to his younger days when he was full of energy and could sing all night for the crowds. What he wouldn’t do to turn back time? The door opened, and Freddie opened his eyes, to see Jim standing there just seizing Freddie up.

“What?” asked Freddie.

“You're gorgeous when you're relaxed,” said Jim.

“Thank you.”

“What happened on the beach?”

“I got in a fight with Mary.”

“I know about that. I meant your leg, you're favoring your right one.”

“Oh, hadn’t realized. I got bit by something, or a shell tore some skin.”

“How?”

“I took my shoes off and waded in the water.”

Instead of yelling, Jim just left the room, and Freddie fell back on the bed. Fuck, now Jim was mad at him too. He kept singing ‘Fat Bottom Girls’ and when he was done, he went into ‘Radio Ga Ga’. He was halfway through that, when Jim returned.

Jim sat at the edge of the bed and cradled Freddie's foot. First, he wiped it down with some antiseptic, then he put some Neosporin on the foot with a Q-tip, then he put a bandage on it, then he wrapped it in some gauze.

“I will have to hobble,” said Freddie.

“Well, I had a suspicion,” said Jim. “I brought a cane.”

“Of course you did.”

“Well with the beach, I figured you would do exactly what you did, so I came prepared.”

Freddie rolled his eyes. “What would I do without you?”

“You would be terribly bored, my love. Pizza first then shower.”

“Agreed.”

They all ate pizza together in the kitchen. Freddie felt fairly normal sitting by Jim, and having a slice and a beer. When dinner was over, he walked over to the piano, and played some chords but he didn’t sing, he just didn’t feel like listening to the sound of his own voice. He played for a little while, playing only the piano ballads that Queen had written. 

“Your not singing,” said someone, and Freddie looked over his shoulder to see Deaky.

“My voice hurts,” said Freddie.

“Will tea help?”

“I don’t know Deaky. Maybe.”

“We have some Earl Gray.”

“All right.”

Deaky went off to make Freddie some tea, and Freddie turned back to the piano. As he played, someone came and ran their fingers through his scalp, making him tingle, and he looked up to see Jim standing over him grinning.

“When did you get so playful?” asked Freddie.

“I have wanted to get you alone when you were in a good mood for a while,” said Jim, kissing Freddie on the lips. 

“Have I been in a foul mood?”

Jim rolled his eyes.

The phone rang, and Mary got it. She said it was for Freddie, Dr. Peters. Sighing, he got up and got to the telephone.  
“Yes,” he said.

“I want you to go to America,” said Dr. Peters.

“My voice is shit, I am not touring. I can barely sing a few notes.”

“No not that. There is a clinic located in Maryland US. They are doing research. They have drugs that can slow it down, at least get you out of pain.”

“Be poked and prodded for the rest of my life in a foreign country? I don’t know about that.”

“They might find something I missed, you gormless prat.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Are you mad?”

“I said I will think about it. Now fuck off.”

“Alright, just a suggestion. How are you feeling otherwise?”

“Fine.”

“Depression can come with a terminal illness like this.”

“I’m fine.”

“I would like it if you would put Jim or Mary on.”

“Mary is at home and Jim is asleep.”

“Oh, fuck you Freddie,” cried Jim. “Give me the phone.”

Rolling his eyes, Freddie handed Jim the phone and hobbled to the couch.

“Dr. Peters. Freddie was in the ocean and he cut himself. I dress it every day or at night?...Every 24 hours, brilliant… Is that what he was talking about… I think that is a wonderful idea… How soon could they get him in?”

“I'm not going!” pouted Freddie.

Jim waved him off. “He is terrified of being away from the cats for so long, but we can bring them all with us. There are just six. We could take the band plane so he would be comfortable, and rent a small house closeby.”

“And Mary could come,” said Mary.

“And Mary could come,” said Jim. “I think its a wonderful idea. Oh, he just hates doctors. Deaky will talk him into it if nothing else works.”

“If we are going to America, we are going on tour!” cried Freddie.

“Freddie be reasonable,” chided Brian.

“Shut up!” snapped Freddie.

“Shut up yourself,” cried Jim, “I am trying to hear the doctor. Yes I am here... That is okay, it will take a few days to make arrangements on our end so I don’t know who all is going.”

“No one is going,” said Freddie.

“Button it Fred, or you’ll get socked in the mouth again,” said Brian.

Freddie slumped on the couch and scowled. He was going to America to see more doctors who were just telling him he was going to die a painful death and no one was going to feed his cats. Moaning, he leaned on Mary’s shoulder who put his arm around him, and played with his hair.

“Thank you,” said Jim. “Thank you doctor.” He hung up the phone, and said, “We head home in the morning, find out who is going, then it is off to Maryland.”

“I want to go,” cried Deaky.

“Yes, I think we should be there,” said Brian. “If anything just to make sure he is reasonable.”

“The children are not old enough to be in school,” said Roger, “and I always promised they could tour America with Dad. I’m in.”

“Excellent,” said Freddie, “Then it is all agreed. You lot go to America and learn all you can about AIDS, and I will stay home and take care of the cats, and die alone. Cause I never want to speak to any of you again. I am going home.”


	5. Chapter 5

Freddie stormed up the marble staircase, and went into his room with a slam of his door. After locking the door he started to pack, and he realized that he had never been more angry in his life. Confused, sure. Heart-broken, yes. But, angry, not like this, or at least not in a million years. He threw his stuff in a bag and he did not even know what he was going to do. Was he really going to take a taxi all the way back to London? He could afford it but it would be so uncomfortable, and he much preferred the Mercades. 

There was a knock of the door, and Freddie growled. “For the love of God,” he roared, “Fuck off and leave me ALONE!” Opening the door, he was face to face with Deaky, and all of Freddie’s frustrations left.

All of the band members were like Freddies brothers, but Deaky was like that innocent little brother who just wanted to play music. He was never cross, stayed away from women, and was just the light of the band. Freddie would kill Brian and Roger in a heartbeat, but he would die for Deaky. Okay he would die for Brian and Roger too, but only if they asked nicely.

“Deaky,” said Freddie. “I didn’t know you were there.”

“I thought we could have a drink,” said Deaky, holding up a bottle of Vodka and some glasses.

“I’d love a drink,” said Freddie.

Deaky made the drinks the way Freddie had taught him in college, and they clicked glasses and tasted the drink.

Freddie laughed. “You make the best Vodka Tonics I have ever tasted.”

“It’s your Vodka. Where do you get it from anyway?”

“Germany.”

Deaky smiled. He looked around the room, and observed, “you are packing early.”

“I was going to take a cab and head home tonight,” said Freddie who put his glass down, and grabbed some jeans to throw into the bag.

“Because of the idiotic hospital in America idea?”

“No, because ever since I got this disease no one treats me the same. Everyone is careful about me. Apparently I can’t take a damn walk on the beach by myself.”

“Well we have reasons, Fred.”

“Yes I might stub my toe, and die of a hangnail.”

“No, not that... We are all scared you are losing the will to live.”

Freddie dropped the jeans on the floor and sat on the bed. “What?”

“Brian is convinced that something psychological is going on. He has Mary worried sick that one moment you have convinced yourself your invincible, and the next minute your half ready to drink yourself into oblivion. At any rate, we are all scared to death Jim is going to call us that you went for a walk for a spell, and you stepped out into oncoming traffic.”

“That is why everyone has bloody lost their minds!”

“And won’t let you out of our sight. The whole getting furious every day and attacking the piano strengthened Brian’s argument.”

“I’m dying. I’m not mad.”

“Well, we talk to the doctors too. They say anyone who is terminally ill, can feel these emotions. From what we can tell you are in depression.”

“Who the hell are you talking to?”

“Dr. Peters, Mary got a lot of the information.”

“When?”

“When you told us you were diagnosed.”

“You have been waiting for me to go mad for three years and you didn’t think to tell me that I could feel this way?!”

“You aren’t mad, Freddie.”

“No I am dying, and this is the fucking normal reaction.”

“Yes, there is nothing wrong with you Fred, but you don't feel well, and we want to take care of you. Why is that bad? You have always taken care of me, I want to take care of you. Why do you hate me for it?”

“I don’t hate you, Deaky.”

“You yell at everyone.”

“I hurt all the time. I am sore, tired and cross.”

“But you don’t want us to take care of you.”

Freddie cocked his head, and sighed. “I suppose I have never been taken care of, except by my parents when I was young, and then I was a bitter disappointment because I wasn’t who Papa wanted. Good words, good thoughts, good deeds, I don’t do any of that. I have always taken care of people. I took care of Mary, I took care of Jim, I took care of the band. I don’t like being taken care of, I want to look after myself.”

“Why?”

“It is one of the few things normal about me. I am self sufficient.”

“What do you mean normal?”

“I am a walking contradiction. I married a woman but I am gay. I am a leader in a rock band but I am shy. I’m not even a fucking dog person. And with how many cats I have I should be an old woman who knits. I mean my God, there are mornings I wake up and I don’t know who I am. One thing I pride myself on is I can take care of myself. I get into trouble and I get out of trouble. But now I can't take a bloody walk on the beach in my bare feet anymore.”

“One thing you like about yourself is no one has to mother-hen you.”

“Until three years ago.”

“Fred could you take it as a compliment. I mean there are people who have this virus and no one gives a shit what happens to them.”

“Who gives a shit what happens to me?”

“Freddie do you know how many gay men go out for a drink with their boyfriend and their ex-wife.”

Freddie laughed. 

“Also, how many middle aged queens go out to the beach, and rent the most expensive house they can find? Family is the annoying pain-in-the-ass mother henning blighters you ever meet.”

Freddie laughed. “Yes, I can take it as a compliment.”

Deaky turned to leave and then he said, “You know, if you breathed more, and took it down an octave your voice wouldn’t strain so much. Just a thought.”

“Be a different song.”

“But it would still be Freddie Mercury.”

“Love you, Deaky.”

“Love you, Fred.”


	6. Chapter 6

They got back to London, and the first thing Freddie did was check on his cats. Everyone seemed in order, and all their rooms were clean, and he was quite pleased with his staff. Deaky, Brian, and Roger decided to go home and see their wives, but Mary came in for a cup of tea. The cats all surrounding their master Freddie pleased to see him home and not the staff.

“Hello my dear,” said Freddie, picking up Lily, and scratching her behind the ears. Lily purred in Freddie’s arms. Jim picked up Romeo, and held him close, too. The four other cats surrounded the couple jealous of affection.

“Have they been fed?” asked Mary to the maid.

“Yes Miss Mary.”

“Good,” said Mary.

“That was a lovely trip,” said Jim. “Beautiful house, beautiful beach, wonderful piano.”

“Yes, we were all just cross with each other the whole time,” said Freddie.

“You were in better spirits after Deaky talked to you,” said Mary. “What did you talk about?”

“Not much. We had some Vodka, and talked about music.”

“Well maybe that is what we should do. Give you a drink and ask you about your music.”

Freddie smiled.

“I have to get home to Piers,” she said.

“Alright,” said Freddie.

“I had a lovely time Freddie.”

“I am sorry I was so cross the whole damn time.”

“Well, you weren’t cross the WHOLE time.”

Laughing Freddie gave her a kiss on the cheek, and then she hugged him, and she headed out.

“Well I am bloody starving,” said Jim, “after that long trip.”

“What do you want?” asked Freddie.

“Does kipper sound insane considering we just left the beach?”

“Not at all. Let's go out.”

The next morning around eleven o’clock someone phoned and Freddie, who was in the study and working on some music picked up.

“Hello?”

“It took all night but I persuaded her!” said Roger.

“Excellent, although I got a woman to go to bed with me by playing the piano, maybe that is what you're doing wrong. The drums are not romantic enough.”

“Will you shut up,” cried Roger. “I am going to America with you to the clinic.”

“What?”

“Mary got you in. She rang me this morning.”

“I told you I am not going to a hospital in bloody America to be poked and prodded by needles for the rest of my life!”

“You're not serious. This is a bloody grand idea.”

“I am not fucking going! There is no cure now! Go to hell!” Freddie slammed the phone.

By time he slammed the phone down, Jim came in and had a tray of tea.

“Who on earth were you yelling at?” Jim asked.

“Roger told his wife that we were going to America in search of a cure for AIDS.”

“Here,” said Jim. “Morning tea.”

“Oh, we're past morning tea. I think it is time to start breaking out the champagne.”

“What are we celebrating?”

“My death, or life, or whatever.”

“Alright, I have had enough.”

“Of what?”

“You're not Freddie anymore. I don’t know how long I have with you, but I am not going to watch you get like this everyday. We are going to America for two reasons. One, you need to have new doctors look at you, and two there are doctors of the mind who can at least make you want to live again. One minute you want to get back on stage, and the next you are planning your own bloody funeral, and I can't watch it anymore. So you are going to America and talking to the doctor or so help me… I am leaving you and taking the cats! All of them!”

“Then leave,” said Freddie. “Cause I am not going to another bloody doctor.”

Freddie sat by the piano, and he felt numb as he heard Jim upstairs packing. The door rang, and the butler let in the rest of the band and Mary, who were all carrying cat cages.

“What is going on?” asked Freddie.

“You are going to die,” said Brian, “and apparently you are doing everything you can to speed up the process, so we are taking the cats.”

“Over my dead body!” screamed Freddie.

“Freddie, you are being unreasonable,” said Mary.

“Unreasonable? Do you know what it is like to be poked and prodded and then be told the same damn thing. You are going to die because you shagged a bloke. Leave me in peace!”

“Fred,” said Brian. “They have new technology there that could possibly save your life.”

“Not interested.”

“Freddie,” said Deaky. “You told me you had a will to live.”

Freddie stopped and looked at Deaky, who looked like he was fighting back tears.

“Deaky,” said Freddie. “I- I haven't lost a will to live, I just want to be left alone.”

“Until you die,” mumbled Deaky.

“There is no cure, why waste everyone's time?”

Deaky nodded, “Okay Freddie. We will leave you alone and stop wasting your time.” He turned and started to walk out of the house.

“Deaky, get back here. Fine damn it! I will go to fucking America!”

Deaky turned around and came to embrace Freddie gently. Freddie rolled his eyes, but hugged his friend back.

“I am not leaving without the cats,” said Freddie.

“Why we brought the carriers, mate,” said Brian.

“So this whole damn thing is a set up?” Freddie asked.

“Sure,” said Roger. “What would Mary do with ten cats?”


	7. Chapter 7

The band, Mary, Jim, and everyone’s wives and kids were flying in the plane and everyone was comfortable but Deaky who was a little squirmy and trying to breathe even. Freddie was bringing a glass of wine to Mary, but he sat down by Deaky, and offered him the wine.

“Drink?” asked Freddie.

“Sure,” he said, taking the glass. “To what?”

“Uh… American healthcare.”

“To you Freddie,” said Deaky, and clinked the glass.

Freddie drinked the wine which was quite good, and sat back in his chair and relaxed. However, he looked over and saw that Deaky was stiff as a board and white as a sheet.

“What’s wrong?” Freddie asked.

“I can handle Americans when they are ten feet back and screaming your name.”

“Our name, darling.”

“Okay our name, ‘Queen.’ But I can't talk to them. Brian said that you have to focus on the doctors, so we have to take questions. I am going to say something wrong, I just know it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, they are going to ask, ‘John, what is your favorite thing about America?’ and I am going to say something stupid like, ‘The sky is blue here, its grey in London.’ You know shit like that.”

Freddie laughed. “I think that is a delightful thing to say.”

“I think I will be a laughingstock.”

“I hate interviews,” said Freddie. “They always ask about things I don't care about, like politics and what to do after Queen. I don’t intend to have a life after Queen, and I hate politics. Then they want to ask me about what girl I wrote this song about, and I actually wrote it about some chap I met at a pub, which of course I can't tell them that it would be the death of me. So I have the choice to lie, or blush and just say it was an inspiration from high school or some shit like that. It’s exhausting. I am so afraid I am going to say something and embarrass Jim or Mary. Sometimes, I will say something, and then want to cut my tongue out.”

“Fred, everyone thinks you and Mary broke up because you have seven call girls on retainer, one for each night of the week.”

“Oh is that what they say about me?”

“Yes you're the bloody slut of the group. That is why you're forty and not married.”

“I am thirty-nine, and I am married, I just don't live with her.”

“Whatever. Still no one suspects a thing.”

“They will now, why else would I be going to this clinic?”

“We are making a generous donation to the clinic, and performing for the staff.”

“What? I can’t fucking sing!”

“Relax Fred. It’s a cover story. The press won't be inside the clinic, and the clinic knows you are coming as a patient. We just said performing to the staff, so the patients don't get their hopes up and ruin everything. Seriously, as long as they get their money, no one will care if you sing. It is just what we sell to the press.”

“Okay, cause I sound like shit.”

“You really don't, you know. You just don’t have your range like you used to. So you sing in a lower octave. Who cares. It’s still Queen! Everyone loves Queen.”

“Exactly.”

“What?”

“When we get to America that is what you need to think. You are part of Queen, and everyone loves Queen, so they automatically love you.”

Deaky smiled.

The plane landed and they all filled out and into a limousine that took them to a hotel near the clinic. Again they all had their own room, except for Freddie and Jim, who stayed in the same room. Mary called her husband to check on the kids, and Freddie called home to check on the cats. But then they all got unpacked, and they decided to go to the clinic to let Freddie see the doctor.

Freddie was moppy on the way to the clinic, and he was looking around to see what was going on in the world.

“I’m hungry,” said Freddie.

“We will eat after your appointment,” said Mary.

“I’m tired.”

“We will sleep after we eat.”

“Cheer up Fred, once we do this, we can go home to your cats,” said Deaky.

“I’d rather die in peace,” moaned Freddie.

No one said anything for a minute.

“Come on old sport,” said Jim. “You got some more fight in you.”

Freddie sighed and nodded.

The exam was like every other exam. Not much to tell, and the doctor did not tell Freddie something he didn’t know. Just what he suspected. There was no magic cure, no miracle drug, and no one was taking care of his cats. Furious, he got dressed and got ready to leave, but the doctor just stared at him for a minute. 

“You are going to have your concert this afternoon, and I am giving you a donation for the fact that you didn’t bloody lie to me. So you can stop looking at me funny,” said Freddie cross.

“A lot of people who have this disease, or any disease that you can die from, don't really feel like themselves anymore.”

“What are you implying?”

“This is the first time Freddie Mercury has done anything outside his house in a year and a half.”

“Haven't had the energy.”

“One minute you want to never leave the house again, and the next you want to go for a night on the town cause your stir crazy.”

“Yeah.”

“And everything reminds you that you're dying, and you are trying desperately to push it away.”

“Sometimes.”

“And no one is treating you the same anymore, but everyone is trying to look after you, like you're an invalid.”

“Yes.”

“And the worse part is you are.”

A sob escaped Freddie. “I think I am losing my mind. I am cross all the time. I can’t sing. I can’t laugh anymore. I am not scared of being dead, but dying is killing me.”

“There are doctors here who help with that too, Freddie. Do you want to see one?”

Numbly, Freddie nodded.


	8. Chapter 8

Authors Note: Freddie hates himself in this chapter so there are alot of anti-gay refrences. Does NOT reflect my opinion.

“I don’t know where to start,” said Freddie.

“Nothing leaves this room,” said the doctor.

“I guess you want me to say I am trapped in the anal stage.”

He laughed, “I would have guessed you for a phallic stage.”

“Oh you're bloody horrible.”

The therapist laughed, “You're about forty years behind the times. It’s all about how your emotions affect your behavior now.”

“Oh. Okay. I love Jim. Would die for him.”

“Good.”

“I would die for Mary too.”

“Okay.”

“But apparently I am dying because I am an easy shag.”

“Is that how you see yourself?”

“Oh god yes. I am a fucking prostitue.”

“Do you think anyone else sees you like that?”

“Anyone who knows me.”

“Really?”

“They all pity me. ‘Poor Freddie, he’s queer, dying of AIDS, hasn’t left the house in a month. We must protect him. He is dying because his brain is broken’.”

“What does that mean ‘your brain is broken’?”

“If I was normal, I would be married to Mary and not be dying.”

“So cast Jim out of your life?”

“No. No, I want Jim in my life as my friend.”

“How did you meet Jim?”

“Gay bar.”

“If you were married to Mary you wouldn’t be at a gay bar and you wouldn’t have met Jim.”

Freddie thought about that for a minute. He wouldn’t trade a moment with Jim, he is so wonderful, and was so kind to Freddie, especially when he was temperamental. No, if all that being homosexual accomplished was it brought Jim into his life, Freddie would have done it.

“I don’t mind dying,” said Freddie. “It’s just dying slowly that bothers me. Being sick over nothing, getting infections all over my body, being in pain, even all of that I could handle if I didn’t lose… my voice.”

“What does losing your voice take from you?”

“Everything. I have been singing since I was twenty four, just two years after the university. I had tried to have different bands, but the one with Roger, Brian, and Deaky took off. Queen has been all over the world. It’s our very soul. I will never tour again.”

“You are not compliant with any of the therapies.”

“Because they hurt, and they dont fucking work!” Freddie sighed. “Who wants to live forever anyway?”

“Do you not want to live forever, or do you not want to live at all?”

Freddie said nothing.

“Mr. Mercury, have you thought about taking your own life?”

“Do I need to?”

“No, I am just wondering if you need to go to a hospital.”

“I am at a hospital.”

“A different hospital.”

Freddie sighed and leaned his head back. “No, I haven’t wanted to take my own life. No one would take care of the cats, and then I would die insane and not a fag.”

“I see. Mr. Mercury, I know we can’t do anything for your medical condition, but I would like to give you something for depression.”

“More drugs. Might as well be the Rolling Stones.”

“This is medicine not a drug and it might make you feel better,” said the doctor scribbling something on a pad. “This is called Prozac. It has ten years of research, and it is quite effective if taken correctly.”

“It won't make me live. It won’t make the pain go away. It won't bring my voice back. Why the hell should I take it?”

“Because you are already in hell, and this can throw you a lifeline.”

Freddie grabbed the prescription sheet, and walked out.

Freddie got back to the hotel, and saw everyone was in some heated discussion in the living room.

“What is going on?” asked Freddie.

“Fred would know,” said Rodger. “When we came to America and had to sleep together on that God-awful tour bus didn’t Brian talk in his sleep?”

“Yes, he proposed to me twice, and almost got socked in the mouth.”

“Told you.”

Brian scowled. “What is in the bag?”

“Nothing I am about to trash it,” said Freddie despondently. 

“It was important enough to bring in,” said Mary.

Freddie sighed, and placed the bag on the counter in the kitchen. Then he turned back to his family in the living room and tried to think of how to tell them this. 

“It’s medicine,” he said.

“Bloody brilliant!” cried Roger.

“It’s not a cure, and it’s not pain medicine. They said that I am on everything that my system can handle.”

“Then what the hell is it?” asked Roger.

“It is depression medicine,” Freddie said.

“I’ll be back,” said Brian, and he walked out of the room and into his bedroom.

“What are they going to do for your AIDS?” asked Roger.

“Nothing,” said Freddie. “It has no cure.”

No one said anything for a minute.

“So we go home in the morning?” asked Deaky, finally.

“They want me to stay a week to make sure the medicine works. And they are calling Dr. Peters to make sure I can get refills in England. They said the dosage is low enough he can prescribe them.”

“Okay.”

Brian came into the room with a Merck Manual. “Okay Freddie what is it called?”

“Prozac. What on earth are you doing?”

“Prozac, that is in the P’s... Ah here it is. It is a new SSRI called selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor, that can be used to treat mild to severe depression if taken correctly.”

“What is an SS-whatever?'' asked Rodger.

Brian flipped a few pages, and then he read, “A selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor is a drug that blocks the serotonin from entering the bloodstream and allows it to be absorbed by the brain, the process which alleviates depression among other things.”

“Why do you have a Merck Manual?” asked Freddie.

“I figured you would get some medicine and be too damn stuipid to take it cause you wouldn’t ask the doctors what it did. So I brought this.”

“You should try it Fred,” said Jim. “It might-”

“Make dying better?” said Freddie.

“Freddie,” said Mary, coming up to him. “Your suffering, not just physically but mentally too. If this can help, it’s worth a go.”

“I don’t know,” said Freddie.

“Freddie,” said Deaky, “ever since I known you you have cared about music, sex, your friends, and your cats. Right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well right now, you almost only care about your cats.”

“Not true Deaky. I care about you guys, and I love music, I just get so cross with my bitchy voice, and- I don’t feel well.”

“Maybe this can help.”

“Alright, I’ll try it.”


	9. Chapter 9

A few days later, Freddie, Jim, and Mary were going to the clinic to see the doctor who had put Freddie on Prozac.

“Why does he want all of us?” asked Freddie.

“Probably to make sure your taking it,” said Mary.

“Good morning,” said Freddie, walking into the office. “This is Mary, my ex-wife. And this is Jim Hutton, my… friend.”

“Nice to meet you,” said the doctor.

“Likewise,” said Jim.

“Hi,” said Mary.

After everyone sat down, the doctor got started. “A few days ago, Mr. Mercury and I had a discussion about mainly his emotions about getting the virus, and I came to the conclusion that he was struggling with some depression and that medicine would help.”

“Yes,” said Mary.

“However, he said something in the interview that actually made me laugh, but it made me worry that he may not be compliant with the medication.”

“What did he say?” asked Jim.

“He compared himself to the Rolling Stones.”

“What on earth for?” asked Mary.

“He was on so much medication.”

“Freddie!” cried Mary.

“Well I am,” said Freddie.

“Many patients here," continued the doctor, "give up and wish to stop taking medicine, including depression medicine and pain pills and I was wondering if before he leaves for England we can come up with a way to be compliant.”

“The way we got him to come here was to take his cats,” said Mary.

Freddie’s heart quickened and his hands balled into a fist. Looking desperately at the doctor, he was wondering if there was some way he could save his children.

“That is not a good idea,” said the doctor. “And I am frightfully sorry they did that Mr. Mercury. For the last twenty years we have been studying the psychological effects of the bond between animals and humans, specifically those with an illness. I strongly discourage using the cats as a weapon.”

Stunned, Mary looked at Freddie and back to the doctor. 

“Basically, Mary,” said Freddie. “If the cats leave the house again, I am not the only one dying.”

“Easy Fred,” said Jim.

“I couldn’t think of a better way to get him to America,” said Mary.

“People have to come to terms with their own illness,” said the doctor. “You can’t force an epiphany on him. If he wasn’t ready to come to America, then he wasn’t ready.”

“So what do I do? Let him die?”

“There are doctors here, and there are doctors in London I am sure who can walk you, Jim, and the rest of the band through this process. Some fights, Mary, you don’t win.”

Mary got up, and ran out of the room. Of course, Freddie ran after her and Jim stayed to get more information from the doctor.

“Mary!” cried Freddie chasing her down the hall.

Mary said nothing.

“Mary!” cried Freddie again.

Mary ran outside the clinic, and into the sunlight.

“Mary! It is very rude of you to run when my damn foot hurts!” cried Freddie.

She finally stopped, leaned against an oak tree. Freddie could tell that she was crying because her shoulders were shaking so hard.

“Mary,” said Freddie, gathering her in his arms, “darling is that what the whole thing with the cats was about? You are all convinced there is some magic cure in America?”

“I am not going to let you die Freddie,” she said. “Come hell or high water you are going to live.”

“Mary, I don’t want to grow old. It sounds so boring. Can you imagine me in my nineties reading the paper, and discussing politics? Sounds dreadful. And to grow old, I would have had to live a different life, and I loved my life. No, it’s better this way. I have known more love than a man could ever know, you, the band, Jim, my parents, eventually. Then the whole world loves Queen. They just need to give me some pills and I will die happy as a lark.”

“How will I live without you?”

“Oh, you will think of all the fights we had over the years and be glad I'm gone.”

“Freddie!” sobbed Mary.

“Okay, the truth. I am not really going to die. I am just not going to be here. And in forty, fifty years, we will see each other again, and we will do it all over again. We will get houses side by side, I will have you over for Christmas. I will have too many cats and everyone will be cross with me. It will be splendid. Most importantly, I will have my voice back and I can throw the best damn concert heaven’s ever saw.”

“You will be singing with the angels.”

“I will teach them ‘We Will Rock You’ first because it is the easiest to grasp.”

“Will you teach them ‘Love of my Life’?”

“Definitely. And there will be new songs no one has heard of, because I will have time to write.”

“Freddie,” whispered Mary.

“But will you believe me that there is no cure and I am going to die?”

Sobbing, Mary nodded.

“Then can we bloody well go home. I have been away from the cats for two weeks!”

“Okay Freddie, let's go home.”


	10. Chapter 10

They were driving up to Freddie’s estate, Freddie got this sinking feeling like something was wrong, but he couldn’t tell what it was. The house didn’t look burned down, and the paparazzi were not swarming it with information about his condition, so why did he feel uneasy?

“Something’s wrong,” said Freddie.

“Come on mate,” said Roger from the other side of the limo. “Your finally home, no doctors, what could possibly be wrong now?”

“I don’t know,” mumbled Freddie.

They got out of the cars, and Jim Beach was standing there to greet them.

“Miami,” said Freddie, “what’s wrong?”

“You look ghastly, sir,” said Maimi. “Any luck in America?”

“Miami, the only thing I like about you is that you don't bullshit me.”

Beach sighed, “We think she is going to be fine.”

“Who?”

“The maid was coming in, and Delilah got out and we couldn’t find her for a while. Apparently, Delilah got bit by some sort of tick and started having diarrhea. We took her to the vet and they did a blood test. It is called FIV, it is basically the feline diagnosis of-”

“AIDS,” said Freddie. “You're telling me my cat got AIDS.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“Get the maid out of my house.”

“Already did. New one is named Janet.”

“Where’s Delilah?”

“In her room.”

“Why wasn’t I notified?”

“Well...Miss Austin was notified two days ago.”

Freddie glared at Mary.

“I wanted you to see the doctor. We were leaving in the morning,” said Mary.

“Go home Mary!” barked Freddie.

“Freddie!” said Mary crying.

“Go home now!”

Mary turned and went to her house crying.

“Who else is fucking lying to me?” demanded Freddie.

“Had no clue,” said Brian.

“Honest Fred,” said Roger.

“I don’t fucking believe you. Get the fuck out!” screamed Freddie.

“Fred, you're losing your mind,” said Brian.

“GET OUT!” cried Freddie.

Brian and Roger turned and left the house and went to the limo, their faces downcast.

As he was going out, Deaky turned to me and said, “Ring me about the cat in a couple of days, please mate. Laura will insist on coming over if you don’t.”

Laura was Deaky’s eleven year old and loved animals just as much as Freddie did. Freddie had a feeling that Deaky really did not have any idea that Delilah was sick. It would not surprise him that Mary, Brian, and Roger would hide the fact from the youngest member of the band.

“Did you know?” asked Freddie.

“Mary had gotten a call from someone about two days ago, I assumed it was from Piers. They said that someone wasn’t feeling well, but they never said a name. I assumed that Richard or James was sick and she was telling Piers how to take care of them. She, Brian, and Roger went and talked in one room while I watched the television. I knew it was a secret. I thought she was going to leave and they talked her into staying. I didn’t say anything to you cause I thought you would feel more lousy, and what would be the point.”

Freddie watched Deaky’s eyes the whole time he talked. He seriously was telling the truth. Brian, Roger and Mary had deceived them both.

“I’m sorry Fred,” said Deaky. “If I would have gotten more information…”

“You're not the one I am angry at, mate,” Freddie sighed. “Go home. Go be with your family. I will look after Delilah, and I have to make sure my other cats are safe.”

“I’m sorry Fred.”

“This is what happens when you live,” said Freddie. “I just wish...It doesn’t matter what I wish.”

“Where is Jim?”

“Oh, he went to unpack.”

“Maybe you can have a quiet evening home. Some wine, good dinner, hot bath, play the piano, just get your mind off some things.”

“I want to take Delilah to the veterinarian and get the news for myself, but then yes, a nice quiet evening at home might be good for me.”

“Alright, good night Fred.”

“Good night, Deaky.”

Jim and Freddie did take Delilah to the vet, and the news was just the same. Freddie felt this numbness come over him, and his mind really did not know what to think. When he got home, he let Delilah out of the cage, who just went and laid down on the floor because she was so tired. Freddie went upstairs and changed into his jammies and lied down in his bed. After a minute, Jim came upstairs, and entered the room.

“You're dressed for bed! I thought we were going out for supper.”

“I would be perfectly fine if I died today,” whispered Freddie.

Jim blinked. He went over to the bed, took off his shoes, and laid down by Freddie. He kissed Freddies temple, then felt him for a fever.

“Have you taken any of the medicine the doctor given you?” asked Jim, softly.

“No. That one pill Deaky made me take in Maryland, and that was it.”

Jim reached over and played with Freddie’s hair, “I think we should give it a go, Old Sport. According to the doctors you should feel better in fourteen days. Try it for fourteen days and if you hate it, you can stop.”

Freddie looked at Jim with his beautiful coffee eyes, and said, “Two weeks, and then I flush the rest.”

“Yeah.”

Freddie nodded.

“You should take it with food, so it doesn't give you a stomachache.”

“Right because I feel fucking fine the rest of the time,” said Freddie.

Jim smiled sadly.

Sighing, Freddie went downstairs to eat some soup and he took the damn pill. “You know I am going to vomit all of this in an hour,” said Freddie.

Jim ran his fingers through Freddie’s hair, and kissed him on the forehead. When they were done eating, they went upstairs and got ready for bed. Thankfully, Freddie didn’t throw up that night thanks to the new drugs Dr. Peters had put him on and he slept soundly that night, well until one o’clock in the morning, when Freddie got up to check on Delilah.


	11. Chapter 11

Freddie did not talk to anyone outside of Jim and Deaky. That night he got up at one o’clock in the morning, he had stayed in Delilah’s room for seven hours much to Jim’s horror. So, therefore, Jim had moved Delilah to their room so that Freddie would at least get a decent night sleep. The pills were doing nothing for Freddies mood and Freddie was begging Jim not to make him take them, but Jim was insistent fourteen days, and Freddie was only on day four. 

“Ten more days,” said Jim. “Then we can flush them down the commode.”

“We are having fucking cake and champaigne when we do it,” said Freddie clearing breakfast which he ate very little of.

“Very well, what type of cake?”

“Chocolate of course. Don’t ask stupid questions.”

Jim chuckled, “Sorry.”

Freddie smiled too.

“There it is.”

“What?”

“Your smile. First time I have seen you smile in about a week and a half. You have a lovely smile, Freddie.”

“How do you do it?”

“What?”

“Put up with me. I have had a different personality suddenly. I am not the same man you fell in love with.”

“Rubbish, you are exactly the man I fell in love with. You were anal then too.”

“I fucking hate you,” laughed Freddie. 

Jim laughed and kissed Freddie’s temple again.

The phone rang.

“If it is anyone other than Deaky,” said Freddie. “I am out ruining my life.”

Jim picked up the receiver, “Hello? Yeah Deaky he is right here. One minute.”

Jim handed the receiver to Freddie.

“Hello?” said Freddie.

“Are you coming to Louisa’s birthday party tomorrow? We have been trying to ring you all week,” asked Brian.

“Oh god that is tomorrow? How old is she turning?”

“Eight. You’re all she talks about. She is wondering why you haven't rang to ask her what she wants for a birthday present.”

“Is she still up? Put her on.”

“Uncle Freddie?” came a little voice.

“Lu-Lu darling, have you been good this year?”

“That is only for Christmas time, Uncle Freddie.”

“So I am supposed to give you a present if you have been naughty? Well that is very foolish of me.”

She laughed.

“How old are you this year, Lu-Lu?”

“Eight.”

“My God your old. Do you have grey hair yet? Wrinkles?”

Louisa laughed again.

“What do you want for your birthday, sweetheart?”

“Radio Ga Ga!”

Freddie's eyes got wide for a minute. “Lu-Lu, um uncle Freddie's voice doesn't feel well. I don’t think that will work.”

“Why?” pouted Louisa.

“Sweetie,” said Freddie thinking quickly, “Uncle Freddie has a cold, and he sounds terrible. You don’t want a doll, or a…” he looked to Jim to remember what they had gotten her.

“Teddy bear,” said Jim.

“Teddy bear,” said Freddie.

“Radio Ga Ga,” said Louisa.

“Lu-Lu, honey, I will see what I can do about my cold, but I think you might need to pick something different.”

“Radio Ga Ga. It’s my favorite.”

“Alright I will see what I can do. Good night see you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Uncle Freddie.” They hung up.

“She wants me to fucking sing,” said Freddie.

“Fred, you can sing. Breathe more, and take it down an octave. Rest your voice tonight,” said Jim.

“I can't sing in a room full of people sounding like this. I will be a laughing stock, or worse they will pity me. At any rate the secret will be out.”

“Fred it is just going to be the band, family, Miami, and a few friends. They all know your ill, maybe not what you have, but that you're ill. You just say that you need to sing it a different way, and that’s that.”

Freddie panicked about what to do. He of course wanted to sing for Louisa, but to sing in front of everyone and get pity would be humiliating. He had no idea what he was going to do.

The next day, Freddie and Jim drove with Mary to Brian’s house just across town in Freddie’s Mercedes.

“What did you get her Mary?” asked Jim.

“Skipping Rope,” said Mary. “When I was her age, my father got me a skipping rope and it was my prized possession. I could do a hundred skips in a row.”

Freddie smiled.

“Hope she likes this. Children nowadays seem to want gadgets,” said Jim, holding the box with the teddy bear.

“Older children,” assured Mary. “The little ones are fine with a ball. They still like to play outside.”

“She wants me to sing,” Freddie said.

“Are you up for it?”

“I don’t know. I haven't sung for people since Live Aid.”

“You can tell her you have a cold Fred and you can't,” said Jim.

“Yes,” said Mary.

“She will be heartbroken,” said Freddie.

“Brian will explain it,” said Mary.

“That I am dying, and I can’t sing?” asked Freddie. “No, I don’t want her to know that. I am going to sing, and I am going to hit every note.”


	12. Chapter 12

The party was great. It was pink of course, and everyone was wearing pink hats in celebration of Lu-Lu’s, as she was traditionally called, eight-year-old birthday party. Freddie relaxed and had a good time, as for once he was not the center of attention. They had pizza, and the adults had beer, as the children had punch. Seeing how it was nearly June, the children played outside and the adults sat down and talked for a little while.

Suddenly, Lu-Lu busted in the door and ran to the adults.

“Aunt Mary,” she cried. “I love my skipping rope, I just got twenty-five skips.”

“Really?” asked Mary, “show me.” And they went outside.

“Do you have some tea, Brian?” asked Freddie.

“Yeah, you feel alright?” asked Brian getting up.

“I got to warm up my voice if I am going to sing.”

“What?” asked Brian walking into the kitchen.

“My present to Lu-Lu. She wants me to sing ‘Radio Ga Ga’, said it's her favorite.”

“Oh God,” said Brian, as he nearly dropped the kettle. “Damn, Fred, you don't have to do a thing. I can talk to her and explain it all.”

“I can sing a song for an eight-year-old,” said Freddie. “I mean as long as she is not expecting Wembley Stadium, it will be alright. And I don’t want you to explain anything. There is too much to explain.”

“I can tell her you are sick, and you can’t sing.”

“She doesn't believe that I have a cold so she will ask what is wrong with me. She is too clever to lie to and I don't want her to know anything… adult right now.”

“Well, then if you are really going to do it, take it down an octave and breathe more.”

“She will know it is a different song?”

“She is eight.”

“They’re smart.”

“Don’t strain yourself trying to please my daughter.”

“Okay.”

Everyone was gathered around the piano for Freddie to sing his gift to LuLu. Freddie played some of the intro, and then started to sing. He hit the first few notes okay, and he wasn’t straining his voice, but he heard it in his ears. It was a different song. The band sang with him, and he realized how much he hated this version. It wasn’t Queen, it was a shadow of himself, and he went up an octave into his regular tone.

“Easy Fred,” said Brian through a break.

Freddie waved him off and kept playing and singing, this time in his regular voice. With power, Freddie sang his heart out, and he turned to see LuLu smiling and dancing with her brothers and sisters around the piano. When he was done, everyone clapped.

“Uncle Freddie,” said Brian’s 11-year-old, Jimmy, who looked a lot like him. “Can you play ‘Somebody to Love’ please?”

“Jimmy, it’s not your birthday,” said Brain.

Smiling Freddie played the intro to ‘Somebody to Love’, and said, “You know I need help on this one boys.”

The band sang the song, and Freddie played the piano. His voice broke a little during the performance, and his throat felt scratchy, but he pushed through. This time he tried to mix lower octave and higher octave. These kids were not going to understand why he couldn’t sing for them, and he wasn’t going to explain it to them, so he forced himself to go farther. When the song was finished, everyone clapped, and Freddie turned to Emily, who was only three years old. No one should leave out a three-year-old.

“Car Car song,” said Emily.

“Yes!” cried Roger.

“Three-year-olds!” said Brian. “Three-year-olds want to buy your song.”

“I don’t care. It is a bloody good song!” cried Rodger.

They started to sing the song, but half way through it Freddie’s throat started to feel like sandpaper. He was gritting his teeth and pushing through the song. Finally, he gave up and stopped singing all together and mouthed the rest of the song. 

When everyone cheered, Freddie left the room, as tears spilled from his eyes.

“Fred, where you going?” asked Brian.

“Freddie, what’s wrong?” asked Mary.

Wordlessly, cause he couldn’t talk to them, his voice was gone, Freddie just left the room, and then went through the front door outside. 

It was now the end of May, and it was warm outside. Freddie walked around and he did not know where he was walking to. 

“Fred!” cried Jim. “Freddie! You out here?”

“Freddie,” cried Mary, “Come back inside.”

Freddie couldn’t yell back so he walked to the front of the house where Jim and Mary could see him. 

“Ah, there you are,” said Jim. “What are you doing out here?”

“MY-VOICE-HURTS,” he signed.

Mary’s parents were deaf, and she had grown up signing. She had taught a little to Freddie when they were dating so he could carry on a conversation with them. Freddie was quite quick at picking up sign language and he remembered a lot. He and Mary signed to each other sometimes when they wanted to tell each other a secret.

“What is he saying?” asked Jim.

“He hurt his voice,” explained Mary. “Do you want to go home? Brian will understand.”

“ITS-A-PARTY. I-DON'T-WANT-TO-LEAVE.”

“Okay, maybe we can try some tea,” said Mary. “Come on.”

They went back into the house, and Mary asked Brian if Freddie could have some tea. Brian made some tea, and it did calm Freddie’s throat but he still couldn’t talk.

“You will have to rest up for a while,” said Jim.

Freddie nodded.

“Fred,” said Brian. “Now that you cant tell us to fuck off. We are sorry for forcing you to go to America. We just thought that-”

Freddie clenched his fist in the air.

“Shut up,” voiced Mary. Freddie continued to sign and Mary voiced. “I get why you did it. I was preparing myself to die and I wasn’t fighting anymore. Every day is a blessing, and these pills do help. I actually enjoyed myself today, which I wouldn't have without these meds. I am glad we went to America. But if you touch my cats ever again, the band will forever be named Deaky and Fred, because I am killing the rest of you.”

“You do know it was a bluff right?” asked Brian.

“Do I look like I am joking?” voiced Mary.

“Alright Fred, the cats are off-limits. And I am glad the pills are working for you.”

Freddie signed something, and Mary voiced, “Thank you.”


	13. Chapter 13

Brian got Freddie a notebook to write on because the band and Jim did not understand sign language. Freddie communicated a lot through Mary though because it was easier to sign than write every word, so he only wrote when Mary was not with him. Jim decided that Freddie needed to go home and get some rest, so they said goodbye to everyone.

Lu-Lu hugged Freddie hard and said, “Thank you for my present. I am sorry you are sick.”

Freddie wrote, “Give me a kiss and I will feel better.”

Lu-Lu kissed Freddie on the cheek and he kissed her on the forehead. 

“Magic,” Freddie forced his voice to say normally.

Freddie and Jim waved bye. Brian said he would take Mary home later. Jim drove home, and Freddie slumped down into the front seat, looking exhausted.

“Close your eyes Fred,” said Jim. “I’ll wake you when we are home.”

That sounded like good advice, so Freddie didn’t argue.

“Freddie,” said Jim, patting him on the shoulder, “we’re home.”

Freddie opened his eyes and realized he was indeed home. He got out of the car, and went into the house. The cats were nowhere to be seen, which concerned Freddie and he went to check on Delilah. In her room were all of the cats, and they were playing around like they were kittens. Each cat room had several toys and towers for the cat, and they seemed to be having a party.

“Goliath was at her door,” said the maid, “we guess looking for her. We called the vet and he said it cannot be transmitted through contact to other cats, had to be through a tick bite or something, so we brought some toys into her room, and let them play. Romeo seems to take quite a fondness to her.”

“Yes, they all get along splendidly,” Freddie said, in his sore throat. “How long have they been at this?”

“Oh, maybe a half hour after you left.”

“That’s a long time.” 

“Would you like some tea sir?”

Freddie nodded. “Honey and lemon,” he whispered.

Freddie walked into the room and watched them for a minute. Tom and Jerry were getting into a fight that was about to knock both of them off the king size bed. Goliath was at the edge of the bed and trying to pounce on Tom and Jerry whenever the fight was over, clearly he had called dibs on the winner. Tiffany was sitting in the window, letting the sun beat down on her, above it all, of course. Lily was sitting by Delilah, guarding her loyalty, and the fight was making her nervous. And Delilah was propped up against a pillow at the head of the bed, clearly in charge.

“I see you are all amusing yourselves,” said Freddie, as normal as possible.

None of the cats stopped what they were doing but Freddie did walk over and pet each of them except for Tom and Jerry for fear he would be scratched. Finally, Jerry fell off the bed and Tom and Goliath started to fight. Freddie picked up Jerry and pet him, who purred in Freddie’s arms. Finally Freddie put him back on the bed, so he could wait for the next fight.

“I won’t interrupt, just wanted to say hello,” said Freddie. He petted Delilah on the way out who purred under his touch.

“I love you dear girl,” whispered Freddie.

Delilah meowed and Freddie winked and then went downstairs to find Jim, and get a spot of tea for his throat.

“The cats are fine,” whispered Freddie to Jim in the kitchen, and the maid handed Freddie his tea.

“Brilliant,” said Jim.

“Delilah seems okay.”

“Yeah,” said Jim warily. “We were only gone an afternoon, Fred.”

Freddie took a sip of his tea, and it soothed his throat. He took a few more sips and he could talk a little stronger. “I know,” he said. “But I don't like leaving her now. This virus is horrible and for her to suffer alone plagues my mind.”

“Freddie,” said Jim, grabbing his hand. “Do you remember what the veterinarian said about Delilah when we took her?”

“She has the feline version of AIDS.”

“Yeah, and he said that it was different from the human version. Do you remember that?”

“Why are you talking to me like I am a mental patient?”

Jim laughed. “Sorry. It’s just I think you think Delilah is going to drop dead or get very sick, and the truth is she is just going to get lethargic. That is all.”

“She is going to die.”

“In five years maybe, not tomorrow. She might be a ten-year-old cat instead of a twenty-year-old cat, but she will still be an old cat.”

“She will outlive me,” mused Freddie.

Jim sighed, “Did you take your medicine this morning?”

“Yes I always take it.”

“Your depression medicine?”

“Oh, today is the fifteenth day, so I flushed them.”


	14. Chapter 14

“Bloody hell,” said Jim letting his head fall into his hands.

“It’s my body,” said Freddie.

“I don’t know what to do with you, Fred,” cried Jim. “You're a blimmin’ idiot. We went all the way to America to see a doctor who put you on some pills and you are actually feeling a little more like yourself, and you flush them down the commode!”

“I don't want more medication,” said Freddie, putting his tea down.

“Why?”

“I much rather have a line of cocaine to deal with the pain than any drug that fucks with my mind.”

“Freddie, you were doing better,” cried Jim. “You went to the party and you actually enjoyed yourself. You and Mary were talking in a secret language that only you could understand. You sang your heart out, for Christ’s sake! You actually overdid something, and you threw away the pills! Why?”

“I don’t want to be on so many pills that I am not myself anymore!” said Freddie.

“But the damn pills were making you feel like yourself, Fred. You were enjoying yourself!”

Freddie screamed. He didn’t scream a word, but he just screamed. It made Jim jump a little. When Freddie was done screaming, he went over to the piano in the living room, and just started playing. Jim walked over to Freddie and saw that he was crying a little bit, as he played. 

“Fred, what is going on?”

Freddie remained quiet.

“Beloved, please talk to me.”

“I don’t want to be ill,” said Freddie. “I want to be fine like I was ten, twenty years ago.”

“I know,” said Jim. “I wish there was some medicine that can reverse all of this. But this medicine can help you feel better.”

“I am done with medicine. I am not going to take any more. Just let me die in peace, please!”

“Freddie, look at me.”

Freddie stopped playing and looked at Jim.

“You are not dying in peace. You are dying in agony. You are not yourself anymore. One minute you are up and one minute you are screaming at me. This isn’t you anymore.”

“I feel… helpless,” whispered Freddie.

“I know Old Sport.”

Freddie kept playing cords softly on the piano, and Jim sat beside him, biting his lower lip. Samson and Oscar came and sat beside their master patient waiting for him to finish his ballad. Freddie let out a soft sob, and concerned Jim looked around trying to see what would make Freddie cry.

“Delilah used to sit on top of the piano,” whispered Freddie, letting out a small sob.

“Freddie, Delilah is upstairs having a party.”

“I know.”

“Fred, you have been off this medicine a day, and you are getting despondent. I think we need to call Dr. Peters and get you back on them.”

“No.”

“Can you tell me what you hate about them so much? Why you are so resistant to taking them?”

“Because I am Queen for fuck sakes. I am Freddie Fucking Mercury. I am not dying! I am depressed! I am not-”

“Gay,” said Jim.

Freddie looked down and kept playing the piano.

“Freddie I thought you understood that part of yourself years ago.”

“I thought I did too,” said Freddie, “But now, I am in hell. I don’t know how to think. Those pills were messing with my brain so I flushed them.”

“Freddie I can call the doctor. Just play a little and we can get this all straightened out.”

Freddie sat down and played a little bit, but the cords were not soothing to him. He was trying to play something that would make him feel better, but nothing was working. Finally, he got angry and slammed the piano shut.

“Freddie, let me call the doctor, and see if we can get you in for an appointment tonight.”

“Fine.”

Dr. Peters was furious and he was coming over there immediately after he wrapped up with a patient. When he got there, the maid let him in, and he marched right into Freddie’s study.

“Are you fucking mad?” cried Peters.

“Yes,” said Freddie, not looking up from his paper.

“You can’t just stop taking medication, you have side effects.”

“I can deal with an upset stomach.”

“If you get used to the drug and then stop the drug your depression worsens!”

“I don’t care.”

“It takes eight to twelve weeks for the medicine to even be effective.”

“I don’t have that time. I am dying.”

“If I put you back on the pills, will you take them?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I am not depressed.”

“The way Jim was talking you are having mood swings one minute you are up, and the next you are down, you are getting angry and melancholic. Did Jim lie?”

“No, but I don’t want more pills.”

“What do you want?”

“To die in peace!”

“Do you want to speed up the process?”

“What?”

“Do you want to be dead already?”

Freddie sat back and thought a minute. He put his paper down and looked up at the ceiling. “I can’t walk, I can’t sing, I can’t fuck. I feel like my body is in hell and my mind is on earth. How am I supposed to function that way? Life is meant to be enjoyed, and all it is bringing me is pain. I am supposed to brave, but I am not doing a very good job of it. I want… to rest, peace, or a fucking time machine and I can be an idiot twenty-year-old again.”

“You didn’t exactly answer my question.”

“Alright,” sighed Freddie. “Yes, damn it. Some days the pain is so intense and my mood is so miserable that I want to be dead. But what can you do about it?”

“Freddie, we can do a lot about it if you bloody tell us. There are some medicines for the pain that we can try. Also, those pills that you so unceremoniously flushed down the commode can help you too if you are willing. I can help, but you got to be honest with me and stop saying you’re fine when you feel awful.”

“Is there anything that can cure my voice?”

“Rest, taking it easy, not straining it, and realizing that your voice does make you the best singer who ever graced the planet.”

“What do you mean?”

“You got to live with your legacy,” said the doctor softly. “Who you are as a person said a lot about you. You are a mysterious person. Who is the real Freddie Mercury?”

Freddie sighed. “I don’t know. I am quite shy unless I am in front of an audience. Song lyrics and music pop into my head all the time, but I don't mind it, although I am sure others do. Queen has had to fight for all that we have gotten, and there was no magic spirit looking out for us, but we have become one of the best bands in the world.”

“Yes.”

“I am-” Freddie looked down and shuffled his feet.

“What?”

“I have-”

“Yes?”

“What is the fucking point of this?” said Freddie standing up, grabbing his cane, and walking to the window.

“If you can’t love yourself, how is anyone else supposed to love you?”

Freddie scoffed, “People don’t love homosexuals, especially when they are dying of a disease God cursed them with.”

“Do you really believe that?”

Freddie shrugged.

“I am going to write another prescription for the Praxil and give it to Jim. When you are ready, you can try it again. Try thirty days this time.”

Freddie looked out the window, and let the doctor walk out.


	15. Chapter 15

Authors Note: Mentions of a non-con between Paul and Freddie that happened during the Munich period. I don't like Paul. No graphic description.

“This is absurd,” said Freddie. 

“Come on Dr. Peters think it would help,” said Jim.

The gentlemen walked into Dr. William Jinkins’s office antechamber at a quarter to two in the afternoon. Jim was dressed in some long khakis and a plaid shirt leading an angry Freddie dressed in his typical white t-shirt and jeans. Dr. Jinkins was the behavioral therapist that Mary had found and given to Jim knowing Freddie would never make the appointment.

“We never had our champagne,” fumed Freddie.

“You can't drink alcohol with your depression medicine,” said Jim.

“I want off them!” 

“Just talk to the doctor, and then we can make a decision.”

A gentleman came out, with olive skin and raven black hair, and cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, care to come for a spell.”

Freddie sighed and walked in with Jim by his side.

“Good afternoon, please make yourself comfortable,” said the doctor.

Freddie slumped down on the couch and started to pull out a cigarette, and lit it.

“He is usually in better spirits when he is not doing something against his will,” said Jim, shaking the doctor’s hand. “Jim Hutton.”

“William Jinkins,” said the doctor. He appraised Freddie, “I would like to be on a first-name basis with all my clients. Is it Freddie?”

“It is your royal highness, Sir Beelzebub III, Prince of darkness,” said Freddie.

Rolling his eyes, Jim sighed. “Yes, it is Freddie. He will get cross if you call him anything else. And before you ask, yes his legal surname is Mercury.”

“Thank you,” said the doctor. “And what is your relationship, might I ask?”

“You may not ask!” said Freddie.

“We are lovers,” said Jim.

“I see,” said Jenkins. “So what made you come and see me today?”

Freddie sighed. “I have… a health problem and it is affecting my life. The pills aren’t helping and the doctor thinks that you are the answer.”

“What is the health problem?”

Freddie shook his head.

“The new virus that is going around,” said Jim.

“I see,” said Jenkins.

“I understand that he is going through a lot,” said Jim. “ And I am not a doctor and maybe this is all normal. But he is up and then he is down. He will start playing songs for twenty minutes on the piano, and then attack the piano for no reason. He will start talking about his shows and planning on making a record with the band and then the next minute tells me how he wants to be buried. We begged him to go to America to get a doctor’s opinion and he got put on some medication, and in two weeks to the day, he flushed them down the loo. I’m at my wit’s end. We all are.”

“Who are 'we'?”

“Mary and the rest of the band.”

“And Mary is?”

“His ex-wife.”

“Mary is the angel on my shoulder that stops me from rampaging towards hell,” explained Freddie.

“I see. So Freddie, how do you feel about Jim's estimation of the situation?”

“He’s got his head up his ass. They all do,” said Freddie.

“Really? You think that your behavior is completely justified?”

“Of course.”

“Tell me about the pills.”

“I couldn’t do pills and cocaine, so I chose cocaine.”

“I see and what are you on now?”

“I am on the pills. We are trying them again for thirty days.”

“How do you feel?”

“Hell is not this awful.”

“See,” said Jim. “He says shit like that and then expects us not to worry.”

“I see, Freddie do you want to end your life?” asked the therapist.

Freddie blinked. “No, what the fuck is that kind of question?!”

“Well, some of your behavior is acting like you want to end your life.”

“For Christ Sake,” said Freddie. “I want my cats, my music, my cocaine, and to be left alone. Why is that so damn difficult?”

“Well isolating can increase anxiety and depression. I think you tried the pills because you thought that maybe you were depressed and the pills could help. Is that a good estimation?”

“We tried the pills and I hated them.”

“Why?”

“What?”

“What were they doing that made you not like them?”

“Well...they… I just didn’t want to be on the damn things.”

“Why?”

“I don’t have to explain it!”

“Try.”

Freddie threw his hands up exasperated and Jim rubbed his back.

“Come on love,” said Jim. “I know you had a reason, just tell us.”

Freddie looked at Jim and mouthed “I love you,” to which Jim nodded and squeezed his hand. Sighing, Freddie started to mumble, “I am already gay, do I have to have a mental problem too?”

“Freddie, do you think someone is judging you for these actions?” asked the doctor.

Freddie laughed, “I can’t tell my family, because of our religion. I can’t make it public, it would be the death of Queen. Then there are people like Paul…”

“Who is Paul?”

“He wanted me and I didn’t want him, so he tried to ruin me.”

“Paul Printer, you mean.”

“Oh good, you have heard of him,” said Freddie, sarcastically.

“Tell me what happened.”

“Nothing for a long time. Then he arranged for me a deal to go on my own for a solo album. It shouldn’t have been a big deal, Roger did one in ‘81. But it was a big deal, and we almost broke up over it. Printer came with me, took my calls so I could work. But the next thing I knew it was four months later, I was dreadfully sick, the album was horrible, and Mary was there trying to get me to come to London to do Live Aid. I had found out Paul had lied about everything, so I fired him, and came back to London.”

“Did you feel safe around Paul?”

“I’m a big lad. I can take care of myself.”

“Freddie, I want to help but you got to be honest with me.”

Freddie swallowed hard and didn’t know how to say this. “When we were in Munich, there were times when it was just us in the house, and I was drunk and he would… It would frighten me a lot. I would tell him, “no”, and sometimes he would stop, and sometimes he wouldn’t. We would fight, and I would leave for a few hours, but I had nowhere to go so I always came back. He would be sober and we wouldn’t speak of it. I would sleep in my room with the door locked if I slept at all.”

“We have a word for that Freddie. It is called abuse.”

“Oh great! Now I am a dying fag who has been abused.”

“Why are you labeling yourself? You are a musician who is trying to focus on your family and your work when you are ill. There is no shame in that. It is very noble.”

“But there is shame in how I got sick.”

“No there isn’t. There is only shame if you give it to yourself.”


	16. Chapter 16

When they got home, Freddie went to the piano, although Jim was trying to get him to drink a cup of tea and have some biscuits. As Freddie played, images flooded his mind of Paul and he tried to get them out of his head. Thankfully, a big tabby cat came in and jumped on the piano seat sliding up to her master.

“Hello Delilah,” said Freddie. “Are we having a good day?”

Delilah meowed as if to reply yes, that or she commanded Freddie to sing.

“Shall we sing your song?” he asked, and he started into the chorus of Delilah, the song he had written in her honor. The cat sat there patiently, as if happy to see her master in such a good mood.

Out of the corner of his eye, Freddie saw Janet the new maid come in. He smiled and nodded, ending the song.

“Good afternoon, Janet. What is going on?”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Mercury,” said Janet. “While you were out, Dr. May rang and said that he wanted to come over for tea. He was bringing Mr. Roger, And Mr. um. Deaky? Sorry I am still learning everyone’s name.”

“Miami hired someone who is not a Queen fan,” scolded Freddie playfully.

Janet blushed.

“I’m joking, darling,” laughed Freddie. “The less you know about us, the less you will want to run to the papers.” Freddie sighed. “They no doubt want to hear what happened at the doctors. Fine. I’ll ring Mary and invite her. She wants to be privy to this conversation. Can you set tea in the breakfast room for seven, please? Miami wants to know too.”

“Yes, sir,” said Janet and scurried on her way.

Freddie went to the phone and invited Miami and then he dialed Mary’s number.

“Hello?” came Mary's melodic voice.

“The boys are coming over for afternoon tea, and I thought maybe you would like to come over. Miami will be here and I thought we could all chat.”

“Okay, what time?”

“We decided on three.”

“That is in an hour. Give me a minute to change my clothes and run a comb through my hair. I have been in the garden all day.”

“I can see the lilies from here. They are gorgeous.”

“You should come walk through them, Freddie. You think you’re in paradise.”

“After tea, it’s a date.”

“Deal. Be there in a half-hour.”

“Take your time, darling.”

* * *

“How is Delilah, Freddie?” asked Rodger.

“Well,” said Freddie. “I mean, she has it. I have asked them to run the test on three separate occasions and they have all come back positive. But, we feed her, brush her, and give her all her shots. Most importantly, we found out she can’t give it to any of the others so they can all play together…”

“And she is not in pain,” added Jim.

“Right yeah. That gives me comfort. She came up to me while I was singing when we got home today,” said Freddie. He took a sip of his tea. “We need to do this, you know. We need to all come to my house or Mary’s house, or Roger’s house, or someone’s house, and sit down and have a beer, and have it be fun. Nothing serious, not work, not music, not discussing an album or a tour, or some horrible event in our lives. Just get shitfaced and have fun.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” said Roger.

“Yeah, I am in,” said Deaky.

“Freddie, is something wrong?” asked Brian.

“No. Why?” said Freddie.

“When you told us you had AIDS you said the same thing. You declared the first Friday of every month we were all to come to your house for dinner and coffee.”

“Oh yeah, you did say that,” said Deaky. “And we never really did it, because Brian realized you were nervously trying to tell us that something was wrong.”

“Wait, so now every time I insist on liming around, it is because I am dying and it has some hidden meaning?” demanded Freddie.

“No of course not,” said Mary. “We are just saying that sometimes when you get...flamboyant now, we tend to notice because you can get so melancholic and-”

“Are you quite done, Sigmund?” asked Freddie.

“Oh speaking of Sigmund, how did it go today?” asked Deaky.

“Well, he got me to admit that I flushed the pills because I didn’t want to be gay and have a mental problem.”

“I don’t understand,” said Brian, scratching his chin. “What does being gay have to do with depression?”

“And it is hardly what I call a ‘mental problem’, mate,” said Deaky.

“When did you care that you were gay?” asked Roger. “I have known you since we were twenty and ever since you broke up with Mary you were so at peace with who you are.”

“The rest of the world isn’t,” said Freddie. “It’s not proper.”

“Sir, if I may,” said Miami, “when did you start giving a shit about what was 'proper'?”

“I don’t know!” cried Freddie. “I don’t know! I have to hide! I can’t tell anyone! Paul said I can't tell anyone!”

Once again the room fell silent, and Freddie realized what he had said. In response, Freddie did something very foolish, he got up from the table and went into the hall and shut his eyes tight. Like a young child, Freddie had the thought that if he shut his eyes and stayed still like a statue, his friends would be fooled and thought he left the room. The other alternative was to become small. So very small he would look like a mouse and Dliliah would eat him, and he would stop existing.

“Freddie,” said Mary, coming after him.

Freddie didn’t answer.

“Fred?” asked Brian.

Freddie tightly shook his head.

Then Freddie felt rough but gentle fingers in his hair, and an arm around his waist, and a kiss on his neck. Freddie hugged Jim’s arm, and then turned around and just kind of collapsed in his chest.

“What did he do to you, love?” asked Jim.

A tear streaked down Freddie’s face. “Nothing I couldn't handle,” he whispered.

“What happened?”

“Paul and I slept together, and he took photographs.”


	17. Chapter 17

Jim Beach was the first to speak. “When did this happen?”

“Munich, a few years ago,” said Freddie.

“When no one could get in touch with you?” asked Mary.

“Yeah.”

“What was he doing?” asked Beach.

“It is humiliating.”

“Please tell us, mate,” said Brian.

Freddie shook his head.

“Fred,” said Roger. “I know you would rather die then relive this, but we need to know how long to torture him before we kill him.”

Freddie laughed. “He came onto me while we were recording ‘A Night at the Opera’ at Rockfield. He said he ‘knew who I was’.”

“But he didnt hurt you,” said Brian.

“Not then,” said Freddie. Taking a calming breath, he said, “No, he waited til he got me alone. After I was making a solo record in Munich and was too high to say no to anything. Once I was practically too shitfaced to defend myself then he...he…” After taking a shaky breath, Freddie whispered, “he did all sorts of shit to me.” Then Freddie scoffed, “And took photos of it all.”

“He did more than take photographs didn’t he, Freddie?” said Mary.

Freddie sighed and nodded. “He would hit me and other things. I could fight back sometimes. I was a boxer you know, but if I was really intoxicated, or towards the end when I was getting sick, I just didn’t have the energy.”

“Fuck it,” said Roger. “We should have been there! When you said you were going to go do a solo album, we should have all packed up and come with you.”

“It wasn’t a big deal!” said Freddie. “Roger, you did a solo album nine years ago. And another one five years ago. There was nothing wrong or exciting about me going to Germany and doing a project. My god, I was almost forty years old. Do we have to do everything together?”

“Fred, you got sick,” whispered Deaky.

Everyone stayed quiet for a minute. Freddie glanced around the room looking for some sort of reasoning from Mary or Jim that they would actually blame Munich and his solo work   
for his illness.

“I did not get sick in Munich,” said Freddie. “I got sick two years later. I hid it from you for two months not two years.”

“Well, Brian suspected,” said Mary.

“Is that what all the fucking mother henning has been about?” asked Freddie. “You think I am worse off than I actually am?”

“Well,” said Brian, “it is hard to figure out what the hell is going on when you keep everything about you bottled up. I mean my god, you won't tell us what is going on with the doctors or anything.”

“Well fuck Brian, what do you want to know?”

“What the hell is going on with you?”

Freddie screamed in frustration for a moment, then crossed his arms and leaned against the bookcase. 

“You want to know what is going on with me,” said Freddie softly. “Okay, I’ll tell you. I am legally blind in my right eye, so I can’t drive anywhere, but I can play the piano and guitar from memory. They have found skin cancer on several parts of my body which have to be surgically removed, which is very painful. And there is bacteria growing in my foot so every week they cut on it and next week, I will have several bones taken out, and will have to walk with a cane most of the time now. Also, we are running tests on the drugs and anti-viral treatments to see if there will be a cure for AIDS in the future. These drugs can get me very sick sometimes and I have to go days without seeing anyone and stay in bed, or on the toilet. Finally, I am working with a psychiatrist and a therapist who are helping me not walk into the kitchen and slit my own throat and just end it all, because who would take care of the cats. And I can’t tell my mother, my father, my sister, or literally anyone outside of this room because I am not supposed to be gay. So that is what is going on with me Brian!”

Freddie stormed upstairs to his bedroom. Unbidden tears came down his cheeks as he hobbled to the comforts of his place of solitude. Upon finally reaching his room, he rushed in and locked the door. Not bothering to change, he just got in bed. He closed his eyes and slept for a little while.

There was a knock on the door. “Freddie,” came a voice.

“Go away.”

“You're not going to walk me home?” asked Mary. “You have walked me home for almost twenty years now.”

“It's down the sidewalk, first house on the right.”

“Freddie.”

Moaning, Freddie got out of bed, and went and grabbed his sunglasses. After putting on them and his shoes, he opened the door.

“Alright, I’ll walk you home, darling.”


	18. Chapter 18

Warning: this goes into sexual abuse and harassment. I don’t think it is anything graphic, but please protect yourself. 

Everyone had left but Mary. Freddie found Jim in the study reading a book and simply said that he was going to walk Mary home. Jim nodded and went back to his book like she didn’t live right next door and it was an everyday occurrence. Freddie walked out in a t-shirt and jeans because it was a nice summer evening, and Mary was in a pretty white summer dress and black heels, which she took off and walked barefoot on the sidewalk.

“My feet are killing me in these heels,” she said.

“Really,” said Freddie, “Heels I can live with, but earrings and the bra should be burned.”

Mary laughed, “What do men find restricting?”

“Tie! Belt! Suits! Shit like that.”

“Is that why you're practically naked at your concerts? You find clothing restrictive?”

“You try doing all that running around in jeans and a t-shirt under them damn lights.”

Mary laughed and opened her front door. “Do you want a drink? Wait, can you drink?”

“To hell with it, bring out the wine.”

“Freddie!”

Sighing and rolling his eyes, Freddie reassured her, “I am not on the pills right now. The doctor did not put me back on anything today.”

“Okay,” she said, “I don’t have Saint Saphorin, but I have a French Chardonnay that was half a week's salary.”

“Oh darling, anything is fine.”

Mary poured the wine and thought of a toast. “To the only man who I have ever loved.”

“Yes, men are better.”

“Freddie!” laughed Mary.

“To the love of my life,” said Freddie seriously, looking so deep into Mary’s eyes she blushed. After all their years apart, he could still make her weak in the knees.

They clinked glasses and took a sip. 

“Oh,” said Freddie. “That is good wine.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about Paul? I mean you were recording Bohemian Rhapsody when we were together.”

Freddie sighed, “Mary, let’s not dwell on Paul. He is the past.”

“Freddie, he hurt you. Why did you not tell me that somebody hurt you?”

“Well, first of all, I knew you would believe me and do something about it, like take revenge or something, and I didn’t want you in the same room with that man.”

“Yeah, I noticed that you tried to keep us separated.”

“I tried to keep him away from all of you.”

“Wait, do you think he wanted the others?”

“I don’t know. He wanted me to want him, but when I didn’t he… I can’t tell with a man like that. But still, the fewer people were around him, the better.”

“So you knew he was isolating you and you let him do it anyway to protect the band.”

“Of course! I’m not a fucking idiot. At least I was gay and single, Brian, Roger, and Deaky all had wives and family and mattered.”

“You mattered,” she said stroking his cheek.

Freddie sighed and kissed her hand.

“What was the second of all?” she asked.

Freddie took a sip of wine and shuffled his feet. “To hell with it,” he finally said. “There is no second of all.”

“Freddie.”

“Well,” he said finally, “I figured… I mean… we were dating at the time… in fact, it happened when I was writing ‘Love of my Life’ on the piano and… I didn’t want you to think I was...betraying you… or worse I was some sort of fag.”

Mary wrapped him in her arms. “Oh Freddie,” she said. “I would never think that of you. I thought you knew that by now.”

"It’s hard to explain, Mary. But he would do something to me, and I was the one ashamed of myself."

“That is how they hurt you, Freddie. They make you think it was your fault or something.”

Her knowledge of the subject scared Freddie. He took her by the shoulders and his eyes bore into her.

“Who. Harmed. You?” he asked with venom in his voice.

“He didn’t do anything.”

Freddie let her go, but he was still gazing into her eyes. “What happened?”

“We were drunk, he started to touch me, I slapped him and ran away. It was a few weeks before I met you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you would have killed him, and gotten yourself arrested. Then I would have never seen you again. Besides he didn’t hurt me, he just made an ass of himself. He was drunk.”

“That no fucking excuse. What’s his name?”

“Freddie, you will kill him.”

“Damn right I will. Someone fondled my wife.”

“We weren’t married. We didn’t even know each other.”

“I don’t care.”

“I don’t remember his name, honest.”

Freddie appraised her for a moment. “I am not sure if I believe you, darling. But if you swear to me you have no contact with this man, then I will let the matter drop.”

Laughing, Mary nodded. “Yes, I never saw him after that night.”

“Alright, I suppose all is well. Better not add ‘murderer’ to my list of defects.”

“Oh, Freddie,” she laughed and kissed his neck. “You don’t have defects, my love. You're perfect.”

“As are you, my dear,” he said, kissing her on the forehead. “Good god, it’s half past midnight. Jim has worn a hole through the floor waiting up for me.”

“Do you remember when we were young and in college?” 

“Yes, the night didn’t get started till half past midnight.”

“And we were drunk and wild…”

“And doing unspeakable things.”

Mary laughed, “Oh, where does the time go?”

“Has time gone by? You haven't aged a day my rose.” And he kissed her on the hand. They put the wine up, he went home, and she went to bed.


	19. Chapter 19

Nothing exciting happened for a little while. Life continued on, but Freddie’s health was deteriorating rapidly. He was going to all the doctor appointments, and basically, everyone agreed: there was no cure for AIDS and Freddie did not have much time left on this planet. There were two main goals, slowing the disease down, which required anti-AIDS drugs and numerous surgeries, and easing Freddie’s pain through pain medication. At this point, Freddie was almost indifferent to both of them.

“How long?” said Freddie asked Peters.

“I don’t think you will require another surgery for a little while.”

“No how long do I have… on the planet?”

“Sir, I never estimate someone's death. It is too barbaric.”

Freddie handed him a ten hundred pound note. “Be a barbarian.”

“Keep your money, but since you're so eager to be morbid, at this rate, you will most likely see Christmas this year, but next year is… uncertain.”

Freddie nodded. “What can I do?”

“Try not to dwell on anything and enjoy your life.”

Freddie did not tell anyone the news except Jim Hutton. Jim kept up a good face and said they had to do everything with extra grand this year, and immediately they decided to start their shopping list for Christmas even though it was only September. Freddie decided they were going to get something extravagant for all of the children and his friends, but he wasn’t quite sure where to start looking.

“If I want to get the children something unique,” asked Freddie, “Where would we go?”

“Paris,” said Jim.

“Brilliant!”

“Freddie,” laughed Jim, “I was joking, lets try the mall.”

“Then we will go to Paris.”

The mall was dull in September, and Freddie could not find a thing that he wanted for anyone.

“We will come back in two months, and it will be filled with things that we can get the children,” said Jim once they got back into the car.

“Or we can go to Paris now,” said Freddie.

“Freddie we are not actually going to Paris for Christmas presents. We can order them.”

“I don't know what I want.”

“Fred, what is going on? Why do you have a wild hair about getting the proper Christmas present in September?”

“I told you, this is my last Christmas. Everything must be perfect, and presents must be one of a kind.”

“Freddie the doctor does not have a crystal ball with a magical date that says when you are going to die. This may be your last Christmas or you may have three or four left in you.”

“I want this to be splendid.”

“It will be, pet. It will be.”

Jim handled everything for Freddie during the holiday season. On the first day of Advent, December 2, which is officially the first day of Christmas whether you are religious or not, a giant evergreen was put in the living room with ornaments hanging off of it, and a train set rolling around on the bottom. Then there was a Christmas village put in the center of the dining room table that had Saint Nicolas flying over it as if he was deciding where to start handing out presents. Pies, cakes, and cookies were brought in from every corner of the globe. And the most fantastic presents were wrapped under the tree, addressed to Freddie, Mary, Jim, the band, the wives and the children, and yes some were ordered from Paris.

Freddie got up that morning and was in awe. “How did you do this in a night?”

“Well I had some help from Mary, and the staff, and some of the cats,” joked Jim.

“Darling, it’s splendid.”

“Merry Christmas, Freddie.”

“Merry Christmas, Jim.”

And Freddie went over and gave Jim his Christmas kiss early.

It was the morning of Christmas Eve, and everyone was coming over to Freddie and Jim’s to celebrate the holidays and have Christmas dinner. Freddie got up from bed that morning excited that this Christmas was going to be the most delightful Christmas ever. But, when he got up from bed a rush of dizziness came over him, as well as a wave of nausea, and he ran to the commode before he emptied what little contents he had in his stomach. The noise, of course, woke Jim up, who rushed into the bathroom to check on his lover. 

“What the fucking hell?” cried Freddie, sprawled out on the bathroom floor.

“We need to get Dr. Peters to confirm. But you, my love, might have the flu.”

“Damn it all, everyone will be here in an hour!”

“Come back to bed and I will take your temperature.”

“No! We are having a proper Christmas, so help me God!” screamed Freddie, and then he vomited again.

Jim rubbed Freddie’s back in small circles as the doctor taught him, and Freddie threw up one more time. When Freddie was done, Jim washed Freddie’s face with a washcloth and then helped Freddie back into bed. 

“Stay in bed,” ordered Jim. “I am going to go get the thermometer from the kitchen.”

Freddie huffed as Jim left, but instead of listening, Freddie got up and got on his khaki pants and Christmas sweater that he was going to wear today. When he finished dressing, Freddie went downstairs, and when he got to the bottom of the stairs, the doorbell rang. Freddie got the door, and let in Brian and his family.

“Good morning everyone,” said Freddie. “Merry Christmas!”

The children said hello and bounded in to look at the giant tree and train set. Freddie and Brian shook hands.

“God, Fred, you feel like you’re right out of the oven. You alright?” asked Brian.

“Perfect,” said Freddie. “Come on in.”


	20. Chapter 20

The day continued on, but Freddie was burning in his sweater. However, he continued to wear it to appease Jim. After the noon meal, which Freddie barely touched because of his stomachache and nausea, it was time for presents. The children oohed and awed at their gifts that came from Paris and all over the world. LuLu gave Freddie a kiss on the cheek for her doll from France who looked like a real model. 

“Uncle Freddie, your so warm,” cried LuLu.

“Uh, yeah, I have been standing by the fire darling. Go play with your present,” said Freddie.

Appeased LuLu bounded away to show the others her doll, but her remark had caught the attention of the adults.

“You do have a temperature,” said Jim, feeling Freddie’s forehead.

“Do not,” said Freddie, pulling away angrily. “Lulu was mistaken. I mean I must be burning up in this damn sweater, but I am not ill.”

“What is going on, Fred?” said Brian.

“He threw up this morning,” said Jim. “but he told me he was fine. I was about to go fetch a thermometer when everyone came in, and he started playing host. You know how he likes to party. Well, he cheered up and I figured he was fine.”

“I am!” cried Freddie. “It’s this sweater. I am burning up in it. I am going to go put on something more comfortable and be right back.”

Freddie thundered to his room. How dare they say he was sick? He has had quite enough of being sick, especially sick on Christmas. He was absolutely fine! He was just burning up in this sweater. He needed his typical t-shirt and jeans. Freddie got to his room, and he pulled off the sweater and just left it on the floor, then he rummaged through his drawers until he found the proper cotton white t-shirt that can breathe. He threw it on but did not feel instantly better. Actually, he felt freezing like he had a window open or something. In fact, he felt dizzy and nauseous again. He ran to the bathroom and emptied his stomach for a second time that day, and for the life of him, he had no clue what he had eaten. Jim found him dry heaving.

“You know,” said Jim. “When I was young and got sick with the flu or something. Mother would always fuss over me, but I never minded it. Sometimes it feels good to be mother henned.”

Freddie slumped down between the toilet and the tub and leaned his head on the cool marble. “I just wanted a normal Christmas. No doctors, no needles, no fucking thing that reminds me that I am dying. Why can’t we just have a normal God-damn Christmas?”

“We can have a normal Christmas, pet. People get sick on Christmas. Ever heard of the Christmas Carol. Tiny Tim never leaves the couch, but everyone has a good Christmas. You come up and rest for a spell, and then you go downstairs and sit on the couch and watch the children play, and we sit and talk in the kitchen. That is a normal Christmas, but you have to let us take care of you.”

“Alright, fine, I give up. I am ill. You’re going to have to help me to bed.”

Jim got Freddie off the floor, and they stumbled to Freddie’s side of the bed. Freddie took his shoes off and was going to just get in, but Jim insisted on dressing him in his pajamas so he would be more comfortable.

“You’re going to see me naked today, or die trying,” joked Freddie.

“Something like that,” said Jim winking.

When Freddie was dressed and under the covers, there was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” cried Jim.

“You didn’t lock it?!” fumed Freddie.

The band came in with Mary.

“Told you something was wrong,” said Roger, “You owe me a hundred quid, Brian.”

“Roger’s right, I feel better,” said Brian sarcastically.

Mary came in and grabbed Freddie’s hand. “You are sick,” she said solemnly.

“I’m sorry,” said Freddie. “I am ruining Christmas.”

“Not really,” said Deaky, “The children have been given a bunch of toys and then left alone without adult supervision. We gave Jimmy a BB gun and some goggles and he might be shooting out your windows, but he is having the time of his life.”

Freddie laughed.

“Yes, and no one is monitoring the dessert table, either,” said Brian.

“Oh God, Felix,” said Roger.

They all laughed.

“Fred,” said Deaky. “Why didn’t you tell us you weren’t feeling well? We could have had Christmas in here, or something.”

“I wanted everything to be perfect this year. Absolutely splendid. And for once I didn’t want to be ill or dying and have something like that interfere.”

“Freddie,” said Mary. “Your probably sick because you worked yourself to death. Everything has been so enchanting.”

“That is a possibility,” said Jim. “You overdid it.”

“At least I did something right,” moaned Freddie.

“Come on now,” said Deaky. “None of that. It’s Christmas. Time for Merriment and Cheer!”

Freddie nodded slowly.

“Deaky no one is cheerful when they’re sick,” said Brian. “Have you eaten anything today?”

“No,” moaned Freddie, fighting a wave of nausea, “and please don’t suggest it.”

“We should call Dr. Peters,” suggested Mary.

“No. I don’t want the children to know I’m ill,” said Freddie. “Everyone stay here and have a wonderful Christmas. Let me rest, and I will be down in an hour. Tomorrow we can phone the doctor if there is no improvement.”

“That is fucking ridiculous,” said Brian.

“Freddie, the children don’t know who Dr. Peters is. We can just say he is a friend coming to see you for Christmas,” said Mary.

“No,” said Freddie.

“Why can’t we tell the children you have the stomach flu,” said Roger. “They know what the stomach flu is. There is nothing wrong with it.”

“Because they will ask questions,” growled Freddie.

“About the stomach flu?!” cried Roger.

“What if they want to come to see me?” asked Freddie.

“We tell them your asleep, and Jim is looking after you,” said Brian. “Why is this hard?”

“I don’t want to be sick on Christmas!” Freddie yelled at Brian.

“To damn bad! You are!” screamed Brian back. “You have AIDS and you might have an infection or worse, so you are in bed until you see the fucking doctor!”

“Daddy,” said a young voice.

They all turned around to see Lu-Lu standing in the door holding Delilah. “What is AIDS?”


	21. Chapter 21

“Lu-Lu,” said Brian, “You’re not allowed in Uncle Freddie’s room without an adult.” 

“I was chasing Delilah. The new maid said it was time to brush her. Is Uncle Freddie sick?”

“No, go brush Delilah, and let the adults talk.”

“Okay,” said the young girl, and she held the cat close while she shut the door.

“Well, time to get up,” said Freddie.

“Why?” cried Mary.

“Get your ass back in bed,” said Roger.

“Do you think she will keep this to herself? I got to go explain this to the children before there is a riot on our hands.”

Freddie leaned against the dresser and got his robe on, and then he put on his slippers and headed towards the door.

“We will handle them, Freddie. Get back in bed!” cried Brian.

“Shut up and come on.”

Freddie came out of his bedroom, and he went downstairs to see the children sitting around the room moping. All of the toys were back in boxes, no one was eating or drinking anything. Even Jimmy was fiddling with his new BB-gun like it was broken, and could do nothing.

“What is all this gloom and doom about in my living room?” cried Freddie.

“Robert said AIDS is this sickness where you don’t have an immono system,” said Felix sniffing.

“Immune system,” corrected Robert, Deaky’s oldest, a freshman in high school.

“Yeah,” said Felix, “And you die of the cold or the flu.”

“Are you going to die, Uncle Freddie?” asked Joshua, Deaky’s seven-year-old, with tears in his eyes.

Freddie ran his fingers through his thinning black hair, and let out a sigh. He could deal with this, telling his friends he was going to die, making the last album the best album because he was going to die, getting the truth from the doctors because he was going to die, experimenting with drugs because who gives a shit he is going to die, but explaining it to children? He wasn’t prepared to do this.

He looked to Jim and Mary for some sort of guidance about what to do about this.

“Children,” said Mary. “The adults were having a discussion and you were supposed to be down here playing with your toys. Lu-Lu was being very naughty, and should not have been upstairs. She misunderstood the adults. No one is going to die, now everyone-”

“Stop bullshitting us!” cried Robert, “at least don’t bullshit me! I’m in high school!”

“Yeah! Enough bullshit!” cried Lu-Lu.

“Young lady!” warned Brian.

“Robert,” said John, “you know to watch your mouth in front of the younger ones.”

“I also know when you're lying to me, Dad,” said Robert. “Lu-Lu said Uncle Freddie has AIDS, and she isn’t smart enough to make that up. So how long has this been going on? And why the hell weren’t we told?!”

“Yeah, what the hell?” said Lu-Lu.

Brian ran his finger through his hair not sure what to do with his nine-year-old cursing him out.

“Because,” said Freddie. “It is my disease and I can do what I damn-well please with it. The younger ones did not need to know because they couldn’t understand the disease and it would only upset them, and Jimmy, Micheal, Laura, and you would drive yourselves sick with worry. None of you could help me feel better, and I rather enjoyed just being Uncle Freddie instead of an invalid around you. I told them to keep it a secret. Robert, be angry at me.”

“You're dying,” whispered Robert, with tears in his eyes.

“Yes,” Freddie said.

“You're sick right now.”

“I have an upset stomach and a fever.”

“You need to be in bed.”

“I’ll go back to bed when everyone is alright.”

“Did you get all these nice presents because you're gonna die, Uncle Freddie?” asked Jimmy. “Like your saying goodbye, or something?”

“You can take mine back,” said seven-year-old Joshua.

“What the hell!” cried Freddie. “No! I did not get all of those presents because I am going to die. I wanted you to have a nice Christmas. It had nothing to do with- No, Joshie, I am not taking your present back. You keep it.”

“Children,” said Mary. “Sometimes, the best way to make someone feel better is to make-believe there is nothing wrong with them at all. That way they can laugh and play and have a good time, even if it is just for a day. Sometimes that is just as good as going to a doctor or taking medicine. Does that make sense?”

“Really?” asked Lu-Lu.

“Really,” said Mary.

“Is that what you want Uncle Freddie?” asked Luara, Deaky’s eleven-year-old.

“Yes, that is what I want,” said Freddie.

“My dad got me a nice poker set for Christmas,” said Robert. “Do you know how to play?”

“Who do you think taught him to play?” asked Freddie winking. “In fact, you would be good at it before you go to college, make more money.”

“Can I play?” asked Lu-Lu.

“Your a girl,” said Robert.

“But I am still vicious. Right, Aunt Mary?”

“Oh, yes,” said Mary.

“All right,” said Freddie. “Everyone in the dining room, so I can take all your money at poker.”


	22. Chapter 22

Note: The address is made up. Obviously.

The poker game was interesting. The younger children played a combination of go fish and hearts that no one could figure out, but they were not playing for money so the adults let them amuse themselves at the end of the table. Robert was the only one who set in on the poker game and he had a million tells, but they all pitied him, and let him win a few hands. He sat by Freddie who showed him the ropes and taught him at least what beat what. The playful rivalry between the band members reared its head during this game because Roger would be damned to fold to Brian, even if he had only a pair of twos. This, of course, would cost Roger a shiny penny, and more than a few cuss words would fly. 

“Relax, Rog, it’s not a scrabble game,” said Freddie.

“What is it with you and scrabble,” asked Robert.

“It is a gentlemen’s game, a daring battle of wits,” said Deaky.

“Scrabble?”

“It’s the only thing that we can play on the bus that is quick to set up and doesn’t get knocked around when we hit potholes,” said Freddie. “And we are all nerds, and like funny words. You can play ‘buttocks’ and ‘lazy’ and get the same points.”

Robert laughed. “Could I ever go on tour with you, Dad? It sounds so cool. Concerts all night, beer, money.”

“Who have you been hearing this from?”

“Mom, it sounds awesome.”

“Awesome?”

“Like really cool.”

Brain stared at his son like he was speaking a second language.

“Fun, Dad. It sounds fun. I want to go because I think I will have fun.”

“Robert,” said Freddie, “your fifteen. Little young to lose your virginity.”

“Speak for yourself,” said Roger, to which John rolled his eyes.

“Wait, there are girls on these things?” cried Robert excitedly. “Oh, Dad I got to go.”

“Robert-”

“Please.”

“Your mom will hate me.”

“She hates you anyway. She told me.”

Freddie, Brian, and Roger laughed. 

“It’s okay,” said Roger. “The only one of us who talks to our ex is Freddie, so...”

“Wait who is Uncle Freddie’s ex?” asked Robert.

“Oh good,” said Freddie. “I have been dying to have this conversation, Roger.”

“Sorry, mate,” said Roger.

“When I was in college, about a few years older than you, I dated Aunt Mary,” explained Freddie.

“Really?” said Robert.

“Mm-hmm,” said Freddie nodding.

“When my parents broke up, they stop talking to each other. Why are you and Mary still talking to each other?”

“Well, sometimes when you break up, you can’t stand the sight of each other, but sometimes you are very lucky, and you can hold onto a friendship that can be sustained. That is what Mary and I have. We are not a couple anymore but we are still friends.”  
  
“Is that why the blond girl in ‘I was born to love you,’ that you chase around the house looks like Aunt Mary?”

“Does she?”

“Yeah.”

Freddie sighed, “Yes, we got an actress who looked like Aunt Mary.”

“So you love Aunt Mary, but you live with Uncle Jim.”

“Are we going to talk or play poker?” said Roger.

“I don’t want to play,” said Robert, “I want to know what is going on between you, Aunt Mary, and Uncle Jim.”

Freddie put his head in his hands, and looked sideways at John, “help,” he whispered.

John was smirking under his hand and looked like he was having fun watching Freddie writhe in distress.

“I will take back all the presents,” mouthed Freddie.

“Aunt Mary and Uncle Freddie broke up years ago because Aunt Mary met Uncle Piers. Uncle Freddie hired Uncle Jim as a gardener and he gets room and board for his work. You call him Uncle Jim because they have become good friends and he is part of the family.”

“Oh, when did all this happen?” asked Robert.

“Early seventies,” said John. “you weren’t even born yet.”

“Are we going to re-live family history, or are we going to play bloody poker?” asked Roger.

Brian grabbed the cards. “Here,” he said, “Deal, goldilocks.”

Roger started shuffling the cards and muttering about why are we talking about family history that wasn’t even relevant to him.

In the morning, Freddie got up, and again he felt dizzy. He stumbled to the bathroom trying not to vomit. In bed, Jim moaned, and reached for Freddie but found his side empty.

“Freddie, pet, you up already?” asked Jim, half-asleep. “The dawn is not even fully awake yet.”

Jim was answered by Freddie retching in the toilet. Getting up immediately, and not bothering to put his slippers on, Jim rushed into the bathroom, to address the situation. Freddie was on his hands and knees, but what he was vomiting was some puke and some small traces of blood.

Jim ran and grabbed the telephone by Freddie’s bedside and dialed 999, the emergency number for England.

“I need an Ambulance at 2809 Logan Place… He’s coughing up blood… Hurry!”


	23. Chapter 23

Freddie woke up to a strange alarm, and he turned over to turn it off on his side of the bed.

“No, no,” came a voice. “We can’t have you doing that.”

Freddie woke up to horrible fluorescent lights and saw Jim “Miami” Beach sitting in a chair by his room. But it wasn’t his room, he wasn’t his warm bed, and the alarm wasn’t on his nightstand. He was in a hospital room, in a hospital bed, with a heart monitor on him.

“Miami,” said Freddie hoarsely, “you have three seconds to tell me why I am in a God-forsaken hospital before I fire your ass.”

Jim poured some water and gave it to Freddie who drank it gingerly.

“You were vomiting blood, sir. By the time the ambulance got there it was profusely,” said Miami. “This was out of Doctor Peter’s element.”

“What does everyone know?”

“The press thinks you fell in the shower and slice opened your head, something that will only require you to wear a loose bandage around your brow from the hospital back to Garden Lodge when you are released.”

“Very good,” said Freddie.

“Your family on the other hand is a different story.”

“What do you mean?”

“Sir, we did not know that they were coming. We didn’t even know that the press reported the accident. And apparently, the doctor told them your medical history because they were next of kin. So suddenly your mother popped into this very room at two o’clock in the morning and asked why no one had told her why her son had AIDS.”

Freddie leaned his head back, and let the tears fall. Clenching his fist, he lightly pounded it against the handrail of the bed. “Fuck!” he cried.

“I am so sorry sir,” said Miami.

“Fuck!” cried Freddie.

Miami just bowed his head and said nothing, while Freddie sat there and shook, with pain, humiliation, or fury, Miami didn’t know. 

“I don’t want that doctor touching me,” whispered Freddie.

“Already been handled, sir. The new one is a woman, Dr. Jackson. Head of the department. Excellent records. Dr. Peters admires her. And she understands she is being paid for discretion.”

“Well, the cat is out of the bag now,” mumbled Freddie. “Might as well face them. Can you tell my family I want to see them and only them? No one else needs to be privy to this fiasco.”

“I’ll get them, sir,” said Miami. He went to the door, and then turned to say, “Do you want anything else?”

“Any chance I can do this high?”

Miami smiled in sympathy. “Actually,” he said. “They’re more scared than anything, sir. The doctor has them thinking you need to be on life support.”

Freddie saw red for a minute. “I don’t want this doctor to ever work again,” he seethed.

“He will be penniless by New Years, sir.” Miami shut the door, which gave Freddie a chance to think about what the hell he was going to say to his parents. Good thought, good words, good deeds, his father had thought him. And like he had told Deaky, he didn’t do any of them.

His mother, Jer, came in first, with tears spilling over in her eyes. A knife twisted in Freddie’s heart. Was she crying cause he was gay? Or because he was sick? Or because he was lying to her? He didn’t know what was making his mother cry, and that was going to make him cry.

“Mama, please, no tears. I can’t stand it,” said Freddie, blinking the tears out of his eyes. 

His mother nodded and blinked some tears away. She came up to Freddie and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“You're running a temperature,” she said.

“A small one,” he replied. “Nothing to fret about, Mama.” He kissed her hand, and then thought for a moment. “I shouldn’t had done that, but you know you know you can’t get it from-”

“Oh for fuck sake, Freddie. You think that is what I am worried about?” she sobbed and hugged him.

Freddie sat there shocked. He didn’t know if his mind was trying to process that his highly religious mom just said ‘fuck’, or that she was worried, not angry.

Then Kasmira, his sister, came in, and she wasn’t crying but looked like she had been crying. When Freddie’s mom broke away, the first thing that Kasmira did was walk up to Freddie and gave him a kiss on the forehead. Then she smoothed out the blankets and squeezed Freddie’s hand. She went and grabbed a chair by the door and went and sat down by Freddie, holding his hand.

Finally, Freddie’s father came in and leaned against the door.

“You’re burning up, Freddie,” said Kasmira.

“Got the stomach flu or something. It shouldn’t be serious if they get me on the right medicine,” said Freddie.

“Are you in pain?” choked out Jer.

“No Mom, and please stop crying. You are making me feel like I have done something horrible.”

“You have,” said his father.

“Bomi!” cried Jer.

“What the hell do you think you're doing,” stormed Bomi, “hiding this illness from your family? Letting strangers take care of you?”

“Strangers?” cried Freddie. “They have been my friends since I was nineteen years old! Over twenty years we have been together. Some marriages don’t survive that long!”

“How do you know? You cared for one woman and dated her for seven years, and didn’t even have the courage to take her down the aisle!”

Freddie recoiled like he had been slapped in the face. His father was seriously attacking his relationship with Mary? “I’m gay! What would you have me do? Be married and cheat on her?”

“Could you be normal once in your god-damn life?”

Nothing could be heard but Freddies rhythmic heart monitor. It was speeding up a little bit, and Kasmira was looking at Freddie to see what was making her brother sick. She turned Freddie’s head gently towards her and saw tears in his eyes, but he was biting his lip and flaring his nostrils in an rebellious act to keep them from coming down. Kasmira knew her brother, and he would be damned if he cried in front of their father, and he would have an embolism if he had to.

“Get out!” spat Kasmira.

“Excuse me?” asked Bomi.

“Get the fuck out! Both of you!” screamed Kashmira.

They got out, and Kasmira gently climbed in the hospital bed with her brother. “Your normal Freddie,” she said, wrapping an arm around him.

Freddie let out a sob he was holding back.

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” soothed Kashmira. “Your normal, Freddie.”


	24. Chapter 24

Freddie just cried for a minute while Kashmira held him. He had no idea why those words made him feel like an eighteen year old who was just trying to sneak out of the house with Mary and get drunk. He was almost forty years old, why did this make him feel so small?

“Why am I crying?” asked Freddie.

“You're running a fever,” said Kashmira in her matter-of-fact voice. “You're emotional. I always cry when I am sick. I cry every month on the fourteenth, until I get ice cream because I am sick. You need ice cream.”

“God, I could die right here,” whispered Freddie.

“Hey, there,” she said rubbing his back, “they told me you were getting depressed. What is going on, Freddie?”

“I just feel awful all the time, but it interacts with my pain medicine.”

Kashmira said nothing, but she nodded, and rubbed Freddie’s arm, and continued to hold him.

In about ten minutes, Mary and the rest of the group came into the hospital room. Freddie had stopped crying but he hadn't got to the bathroom and washed his face or anything, so he looked awful. Everyone filled into the room quietly and just looked at Freddie. They knew he would tell him when he was ready.

Freddie cleared his throat, and drank some water. Then finally, he said, “My father wishes that I was normal.”

“And what is his definition of normal?” asked Brian.

“Not gay,” whispered Freddie.

“Well, your father has never cared for me, when we were dating,” said Mary. “He wanted you with that girl from Bangladesh whose father he worked with.”

“Yeah, and Papa doesn’t approve of anyone I date,” said Kasmira. “I haven’t told him about the last three guys because what is the point.”

“Yeah, but at least he considers you ‘normal’,” said Freddie.

“Freddie you are normal,” said Jim.

“No I am not,” argued Freddie, tiredly.

The room fell silent for a while, as everyone tried to think of something to comfort Freddie, but they were all clueless.

Finally, Kashmira said, “How many bedrooms are in your house, Freddie?”

“Bedrooms? Eight, why?”

“Is there one overlooking the garden?”

“Lily’s room.”

“Okay. I will go home, pack, and come back and stay in Lily’s room for a few weeks.”

“What?” cried Freddie.

“You are unwell, and I want to help look out for you. The doctor said you will need more day-to-day care from now on. I can help.”

“Kassie, you have two kids and a life.”

“They can stay with their father, that way they can stay in school. I just tell them that you are feeling ill and I am taking care of you. Besides, their teenagers. They will be glad that their mom is gone for a while.”

“And I can help too,” came a voice by the door.

Freddie looked, “Mom?”

“I saw your father to the car,” said Jer. She came over, and grabbed Freddie’s hand. “We talked on the way there. When the doctor told us in that hallway that you were an AIDS patient for three years, I thought the ground was going to fall out from under us. We both have our way of dealing with this sort of thing. I want to take your temperature every half hour.”

“She’s not alone in that,” said Mary.

Freddie rolled his eyes. 

“Your father,” said Jer. “Well, his solution is to turn back time. Or…”

“Make me straight,” finished Freddie.

Jer nodded with tears in her eyes. Sighing, she said, “You two have fought over everything. You will fight over this too and then shake hands like gentlemen and be done with it. It’s just the fighting part that I hate.”

“Mom, he thinks I am abnormal. We’re not shaking hands this time.”

“Wait what is abnormal about us?” asked Jim.

“There is nothing abnormal about Freddie,” said Jer, “and I won’t hear anymore of this talk. My god I have been waiting almost twenty-five years for him to come home and tell me he has met someone that he cares about, and the fact that I did not learn about Jim until this morning is very upsetting. So enough.”

“Where do you get twenty five from?” asked Freddie.

“I thought you were going to start dating in high school.”

“You mean Freddie was not always the shameless flirt he is today?” asked Roger.

Freddie picked up a box of tissues and flung it at Roger's face, who caught it.

“My Freddie is flirtatious?” asked Jer.

“Oh yeah,” said Mary.

“Really bad,” said Brian.

“Worse of the group,” said Deaky.

“In fact when we met,” started Jim.

Freddie quickly grabbed Jim’s arm hard, because Jim was standing by the head of the bed.

“I told you to never tell that story,” said Freddie. “Especially not to my mother.”


	25. Chapter 25

When Freddie was released, he had four caretakers now instead of two, and he was worried that was going to give him quite the headache. However, they worked together like clockwork. His mom was the cook for the household, and Mary’s household too. She made some food that he loved that reminded him of home, but also she made all sorts of things. It depended on what his stomach could take that day.

Mary saw to light exercise and recreational activities. Freddie would come out and help her garden during good weather and during poor weather, they all took turns dancing to Queen records. It was the first time Jer heard some of them but to Freddie’s surprise Kashmira could sing along to all of them, even Bohemian Rhapsody, which sometimes he didn’t know the lyrics to. 

“My favorite is ‘Don’t Stop Me Now’,” said Kashmira. “It is so you.”

“Really?”

“I also love ‘Somebody to Love’, it is so beautiful and painful. But I can’t figure out how to play it on the piano.”

“You can play the piano?”

“My brother is Freddie Mercury. I got sick of telling everyone that he was the talented one and I could do nothing. So, about ten years ago, I started taking lessons. I can get sort of good. I think I can play ‘Love of my Life’ by ear.”

“Show me.”

Kashmira got up and started playing the intro to “Love of my Life,” and at the right spot, Freddie came in with the words. At the chorus, Kashmira came in and sang the melody while Freddie switched to harmony. Jer walked in and saw her two children singing, and she smiled and held her hand to her heart, then she shook her head. Her stubborn husband was missing this.

Kashmira was very good at being on top of all of Freddie’s doctor appointments, therapy appointments, and medications. By this time Freddie was in an AIDS study that gave him new antibiotics that had not been on the market yet, and Kashmira kept his symptoms in a notebook so the doctors could understand what he was dealing with. Also, she and Brain were researching all of the medicine on their own about the medicine, and if they found a more promising one, they would finagle Freddie into that study. Finally, Kashmira also made Freddie got to see the therapist, Dr. Jenkins, regularly. At first, Freddie hated it and threatened to send Kashmira back home, but eventually, he admitted it was helpful to have someone to simply listen to him.

“I keep feeling scared that he will say something like, Papa,” said Freddie, as Kashmira was driving him back home from the appointment. 

“What do you mean?” asked Kashmira.

“That I am dying because I am gay, and if I was a normal and good little straight Indian boy, I would make my family proud and marry and fuck a normal good straight little Indian girl.”

“Indian? We’re not from India. We’re from Zanzibar, you idiot! My god, I have to tell everyone all the time, ‘I’m not Indian, I am from Zanzibar!’ I never thought I had to tell my own brother.”

“No, I meant Papa wants me to find an Indian girl. I know we’re from Zanzibar you twit. But where in hell was I supposed to find someone from Zanzibar in England.”

“Oh, I see. So even Papa settled.”

Freddie nodded, then he asked, “People think you’re from India? I get asked if I am from Pakistan all the time.”

Kashmira burst out laughing. “Your joking?”

“No.”

“We look nothing like them.”

“That is what I thought.”

After they stopped laughing, Kashmira thought about her brother’s fear. “You know straight people get AIDS too,” she finally said. “You’re not dying because there's something wrong with you. Your dying because your dying. I think that is what Papa is missing. He thinks that if he could change something about you, you would stop dying. But the truth is, you would still be dying, and you would cease to be who you were meant to be. I don’t know how to explain it to him.”

“I don’t care,” said Freddie. 

“Yes, you do. Damn it, Freddie, I know you and Papa don’t see eye to eye. But you got to take some of the blame for that.”

“What?”

“It wasn’t wrong what you were doing in high school, but you were doing it behind Papa’s back. You were lying and rebellious and he was controlling and judgemental. If you hadn’t had moved out you were going to kill each other.”

“So you never felt the pressure of being the perfect child of the government agent who was following a religion you didn’t believe in?”

“Of course I felt the pressure. But Papa can be reasoned with if you do not completely rebel!”

“Reasoned with?” cried Freddie. “The man who tried to get you courted at fifteen and me at sixteen engaged to a woman. And then when I did find a woman, Mary, she wasn’t good enough because she was English. And now I am gay and instead of being happy that I am in love he wants me to just be ‘normal for once in my god-damned life’! How do you reason with that?”

“I don’t know Freddie,” said Kasmira, pulling up to the therapist’s office. “But do you understand you need to see the therapist?”


	26. Chapter 26

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” said Dr. Jenkins.

“Christmas then I got ill,” said Freddie.

“How are you feeling?”

“It was nothing, just a little fever. I get them a lot. This was just bad because I spat up blood and Jim got concerned.”

“Spat up blood?”

Freddie nodded.

Dr. Jenkins shook his head. “How was Christmas otherwise?”

“Oh well, let’s see. The children found out I am dying, and my parents found out I am gay, to which my father has decided that I am abnormal.”

“Sounds like the holidays.”

Freddie laughed.

“What do the children know?”

“Everything.”

“And your parents?”

“The same.”

“What illness did you get over Christmas?”

“They finally diagnosed it as a stomach ulcer, but how I got that, no one knows.”

“Probably stress. What was your blood pressure?”

“147/98, when I got admitted.”

“That’s a lot of stress, Freddie.”

“They didn’t let me go home until it was 135/85 or something like that. That was the goal.”

“So what are you doing now?”

“I am homebound pretty much after this episode. Mom, Kashmina, Mary, and Jim are taking turns caring for me. I want to go record some music, but I am so tired right now honestly. Luckily the boys are visiting with their families right now. I think I can be well when they get back.”

“Who has you on a deadline?”

“No one.”

“So this is the infamous ‘I am Freddie Mercury and I will be damned if I quit’ bug.”

“Possibly.”

“Look we discussed this. Work a little, rest a little, let your body tell you what you can handle.”

“I don’t want to do that.”

“Freddie, your forty-something now, not twenty-something. You got to listen to your body, and rest.”

“You mean give in.”

“I didn’t say sell the piano, I am just saying to let yourself rest. You were just in the hospital for an ulcer, you don’t have to go to work right now. If you came out and said I am planning a tour, I would say, your crazy, and Peters would too. Let your body heal.”

Freddie nodded.

“Hospital visits, ulcers, fight with your father, doesn’t sound like a Merry Christmas.”

“I’ve had better,” whispered Freddie.

“What happened with the children?”

“They overheard us talking and found out I have AIDS.”

“What was their reaction?”

“They were sad. The older ones were angry we didn’t tell them. One of them, the oldest, is a freshman in high school, and I guess they tell them all about AIDS because of the sex talk. He was pretty worked up, asked lots of questions.”

“Did you answer them?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. The best-case scenario is to be honest in a situation like that so the child feels like he can ask questions.”

“The main thing he thinks is that I am in pain all the time.”

“Well, as you can imagine he is what, fifteen, he is practically your nephew. Probably what he wants to do is to help. So, if he comes around again, and he gets despondent about it, think of something that would cheer you up, or make you feel better, and ask him to do it. He feels better and so do you.”

“Actually we did that. I challenged him to a game of poker and for a couple of hours we forgot all about the damn thing.”

“That is called distraction. It is one of my favorite coping skills.”

Freddie nodded and tucked it away in his mind.

“So, do you want to tell me what happened with your dad?”

Freddie ran his hand through his hair. “My worse nightmare. He found out I was gay, and he wanted a straight son.”

The therapist nodded.

“Well, first he was pissed that ‘strangers’ were taking care of me.”

“Strangers meaning Jim and Mary.”

“Yeah.”

“Your dad never approved of Mary.”

Freddie laughed, “She is not ethnic enough for him.”

“Sounds like he has a lot of standards.”

“You could say that.”

“You said, ‘first of all.’ Was he angry at other things?”

“Oh, of course. What really got his goat was he had a fag for a son!”

The shrink sighed, “Okay Freddie, breathe. Don’t call yourself that. Remember the tape recorder in our head. We don’t let it have those words in it.”

Freddie took a deep breath but his hands were shaking, again tears were pricking his eyes. “Why am I crying?”

“Because you’re upset,” Dr. Jenkins said. “It’s okay. Just breathe. What did he say exactly?”

“When I asked what he wanted me to do about Mary, he said, ‘Could you be normal once in your god-damn life?’”

“‘Normal’ meaning straight?”

Freddie nodded.

“Well, first we need to establish did your father have any right to say that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is he the expert on what is normal, because if he is I want to shake his hand? Psychologists have been trying to figure out what was normal since Aristotle, maybe Socrates. If your father has figured this out, I would like to talk to him.” 

Freddie smiled, trying to wipe his tears away.

“Also, your father is three years behind the times. According to the new DSM, homosexuality has no psychiatric basing, so by our standards, you are normal.”

Freddie laughed a little. “Well, can you tell my father that?”

“What your father thinks about you is irrelevant. What do you think about yourself?”

“I don’t know anymore,” said Freddie.

“Then we need to figure that out. The big question is Freddie, where do you want to go from here with your family?”

“Kashmira and my mom want to stay and take care of me. And now that we don’t have to hide mom is looking through Jim’s photo albums, and listening to the less embarrassing stories.”

“So your mother is happy with you and Jim?”

“Oh, as a lark. She was so convinced that I would die alone and unloved she was giving my telephone number and picture out at the local bowling alley.”

“What are mums for?”

“And Kashmira, she is learning everything from the doctors and Mary she could practically write a book about taking care of someone with AIDS by now.”

“It would be a much-needed book.”

“Kashmira takes me to the study now. We sing when they do the stuff that hurts. Also, I am teaching her piano.”

“Freddie, I have been treating you since May and this is the first time I have heard you talk about your family besides simply telling me that you had one. I know this experience was painful for you and your father, but it is bringing you and your mother and sister so much closer. Focus on that. And let them help. Are you learning that a little mother henning is a good thing?”

“Yeah.”

“And your father is going to find out sooner or later that just because your life isn’t his definition of what makes a person happy, doesn’t mean you aren’t happy. Don’t give up on him. He loves you, he just can’t show it properly.”

“I don’t want to talk to him.”

“Okay, you don’t have to.”


	27. Chapter 27

It was a few days later, and it was time for dinner. Freddie and Jim had been spending a precious moment alone just curled up in bed talking, but soon they came down for supper. When Freddie got down there he saw that the table had been set for six. 

“I know Mary is coming,” said Freddie, “but who is the sixth? One of the boys?”

“Your father,” said Jer.

“Mom,” said Freddie “no.”

“It’s been two weeks,” said Jer. “You two can sit down and have a civil conversation.”

Freddie sighed.

When his father got there, Bomi did not talk much to anyone. Just said that the drive was pleasant enough and he was hungry.

“Father, you remember Mary,” said Freddie.

“Of course,” said Bomi, and gave Mary a kiss on the hand.

“How are the roses?” asked Jer.

“The whole garden has been watered properly, my dear,” said Bomi.

They sat down and ate. They ate in uncomfortable silence for a short minute, while everyone was trying to think of what to say. Freddie and Bomi were concentrating on their food and not looking at each other.

“Freddie has been teaching me to play some of his songs on the piano,” said Kashmina. “I can already play ‘Love of my Life’ pretty well.”

“Yes,” said Freddie, “She is quite good. If I can teach her guitar, she can replace Brian.”

Jer smiled at her son’s joke.

“Good,” said Bomi.

“Freddie is recovering quite nicely from his fever,” said Jer. “He almost has all his strength left, but the doctor is weary of him going out so frequently.”

The look on Freddie’s face meant that he did not deem the doctor's prognosis as adequate dinner conversation.

“I just thought that he needed to be informed,” said his mother.

“We are having a meal!” cried Freddie.

“Farrokh, don't yell at your mother,” said Bomi. “And she has every right to tell me about your illness. God knows I don’t hear anything from you.”

“I am sorry Papa, but when you disapprove of how I got the condition, I deemed it wise to stay clear of the subject entirely.”

“If you were a drug addict, I would disapprove of your choices, but I would take an interest in your recovery.”

Freddie saw a flash of red, and dropped his fork in the plate. “Fuck it,” said Freddie, getting up from the table. 

“Freddie!” cried Mary.

Freddie grabbed his coat, and headed out to the garage.

“Freddie!” cried Mary.

“Leave him Mary,” said Jim.

“You haven’t known him as long as I have,” she yelled back and ran out.

As Freddie was pulling through the rounded driveway, Mary went and stood at the entrance near the gate, to where he either had to hit her or stop.

Freddie rolled down the window of his Mercades and said, “I want to be alone, Mary!”

“You're going to go to a bar, get drunk, and probably get in a fight.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Let me in you twit!”

Rolling his eyes, Freddie unlocked the passenger door, and he and Mary drove away. They rode through the London traffic in silence for a minute.

“Alright,” said Freddie, “I was planning to go get hammered, so since that doesn’t tickle your fancy, what do you want to do?”

“We didn’t finish our meal, and I am kind of hungry. You want a hamburger?”

“McDonalds okay?”

“Sure.”

Freddie pulled through a McDonalds and grabbed two combos with fries and everything, and then drove to the Finsbury Circus, a park with long hours. Freddie parked, and they got out and climbed on the hood and looked at the stars.

“Do you remember doing this when we were kids,” asked Mary.

“Yeah, I had to sneak you back into the dorms.”

Mary laughed, “Sometimes, we would just go to yours, and just explain it to your roommate.”

“I finally moved in with Roger, and he was sneaking in more girls than I was.”

Mary laughed. “Ah, the stars are beautiful.”

“Yep, and if I have learned anything from Brian that one is Taurus,” he said pointing up to the sky.

“Really?”

“No idea, it could be. Looks like an ass.”

Mary giggled. “Taurus is a bull.”

“Well I don’t fucking know. We need Brian.”

Mary laughed hard, and her blond hair cascaded into Freddie’s face. Suddenly, the thought occurred to Freddie that under different circumstances this would be a very romantic scenario. Him with his girl staring up at the stars. This would make his father happy. This would make him normal. But…

“Damn,” said Freddie, getting up from the car and finishing his burger.

“What?” asked Mary, sitting up.

Freddie went and threw his wrapper and napkin in the waste bin, and came back to the car, somberly.

“What Freddie?” asked Mary.

“This is what I am supposed to be isn’t it?” said Freddie. “Fuck! This would make Papa happy. This would make me normal. And I can't even do it for an hour can I?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Here we are, under the stars, on top of a convertible, eating a hamburger, laughing and cutting up. It is very sexy and romantic, and I can’t get turned on if I tried!”

“Are you trying to get turned on?”

“No, but I know I am supposed to respond to this, as a man. And I am not!”

“Freddie, I thought you figured this out fifteen years ago.”

“I did.”

“So what is going on?”

“I knew it was private. I knew it was unpopular. But it never occurred to me that I’m not… I’m not…”

“Normal?”

Freddie nodded.

“Freddie, I know there is some stuff going on between you and your dad. There has been some stuff going on between you two since I met you. But until you realize your dad’s approval doesn’t define you, you are gonna feel this way.”

“What do I do?”

“You are Freddie Mercury to everyone else in the world. Just be that to your dad.”

“Unapologetic asshole?”

Mary smiled. “Not an asshole, but definitely unapologetic.”

Freddie laughed, “He compared me to a drug addict. Of course, I am doing cocaine for pain, but that is neither here nor there.”

“Okay, he did say that he cares.”

“How does that help?”

“Some people with this disease don’t even have that.”


	28. Chapter 28

A week passed, and the quiet household was lively with Kashmira and Jer roaming around, and Mary poping in every day. With the boys outnumbered, and soon there were fresh flowers on the table, violet throw pillows on the couches, and crocheted boxes that were too small to hold anything in the bathroom.

“Freddie,” asked Jim, bringing in something in his hand. “What the hell is this?”

Freddie looked in Jim’s hand to see a seashell made out of soap.

“It’s a fancy soap,'' cried Jim. “Your mother or your sister has now taken over the soap! I asked Kashmina, and she said it was decorative soap. What the hell is that? I love you, but I can’t handle this. I need soap I can use!”

“Okay, Jim. I’ll talk to them.”

“Can I throw it away?” he begged.

“Yes.”

Jim threw the offending object away and washed his hands. Freddie took a deep breath and went to Kashmina’s room.

“How are you feeling?” asked Kashmina when she opened the door. Their mom was in there helping her with the laundry.

“Fine. I have a question for you two young ladies.”

“Yes,” said Kashmira.

“What has happened to the upkeep of my house?” 

“What do you mean?” asked Jer.

“Pillows are disappearing and replaced with other pillows of a different color, soap is being replaced with something that I don’t even think is soap, strange boxes are popping up in odd places, a bowl of dead flowers is on the kitchen table next to a vase of live ones. We have the oddest thief around here. I am at my wit’s end.”

“Told you he would mind,” said Kashmira.

“Freddie,” said Jer. “It is just a couple of nice things around the house. We are not redecorating.”

“Yes well Jim thinks you're redecorating,” said Freddie smiling. “I have lived with Mary and Kashmina longer than that, so I knew what you were doing, but Jim is in shock.”

“Can we keep things up in our rooms?” asked Kasmira.

“Of course, but keep it out of our bedroom and the kitchen, living room, dining room, please. Jim thinks he is on another planet.”

“It’s not like we changed the drapes,” said Jer.

“But it was discussed, right?” asked Freddie.

“Kas talked me out of it. But I found these adorable ones with cats.”

“No mother. I’m gay, not senile.”

“Oh, alright.”

Freddie walked back downstairs, and saw Jim with a dreadful look on his face. “It’s handled, darling,” he said.

“Telephone for you,” said Jim, “It’s your father.”

“Tell him I am...dying and will ring him later.”

“One moment please,” said Jim, and put the receiver down. “I know this is difficult, pet, but he wants to apologize, and make peace.”

“No he wants you to move out and Mary to move in,” seethed Freddie.

“If that is what he wants then I will never speak to the man again, I promise. But when he rang, he was desperate. Your mother is so angry at him she won’t inform him of your condition. He doesn’t know if you are up running around in the studio or on your deathbed.”

“Then tell him I have every intention of playing the guitar and writing songs for Brian, Roger, and Deaky to record while I am on my deathbed.”

“Freddie!” cried Jim.

Freddie sighed, he picked up the receiver, “Hello?”

“Farrokh?”

Freddie rolled his eyes. Only his father insisted on calling him that name while everyone else adapted the name Freddie. Even his mother called him Freddie when he changed it when he was little, but his father was old fashioned.

“What do you want, Papa?”

“How are you feeling?”

Freddie was a little taken back by the concern in his father’s voice. “Um, no worse for wear. I don’t like going out much anymore.” Freddie chuckled, “Last April, Jim was begging me to stay in. Now here we are in the beginning of January, and I don’t even want to go to this award ceremony next month.”

“You have an award ceremony?”

“It is the Brit Awards. Queen is up for Outstanding Contribution to British Music. It is all very posh.”

“You don't want to go because you will be tired?”

“Tired, my feet hurt sometimes with all that standing. I despise suits and getting dressed for an evening. I would much rather spend it with Mary and Jim.”

“You should go. It sounds like quite an honor. “Most Outstanding Contribution to British Music”? Which song was nominated?”

“It’s not just one song. All of Queen's songs are being recognized. It is a band award.”

“A band award? So they are saying that you have changed British music?”

“Sort of.”

“You have to go. That is quite an honor, Far-Freddie.”

“Well, it’s not the golden gloves.”

“No, its not.”

Freddie sighed.

“It’s better,” said his father. “Cause this is something that you enjoy doing.”

“Will you come?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”


	29. Chapter 29

On the day of the Brit Awards Freddie felt awful, just bloody awful. He was sick on his stomach, his feet hurt, and his back ached, which was a new and exciting symptom. He thought that maybe it was because he slept on the bathroom floor all night. Everyone was coming to the ceremony, including his family, and Freddie wanted this to be a spectacular night. He just wished he was twenty years younger so he could enjoy himself because right now he longed for bed and some soup.

Freddie shook his head trying to free himself out of his morbid thoughts. Now was not the time to wallow in self-pity, now was time for champagne in a glass slipper. For he was still Freddie fucking Mercury. He grabbed Mary’s hand and kissed it softly.

“You look lovely, my dear,” he said.

Mary did look lovely dressed in a dark blue dress with light sparkles throughout it. Her smiled made the dress Freddie thought, and he smiled back at her.

“Are you up for this?” asked Mary.

“No,” said Freddie. “But the boys deserve it, putting up with me for all these years.”

“We can leave after they are done with the category.”

“No, no that won’t do. That will be the scandal of the year. Everyone will ask questions. We will leave at the end of the night, like gentlemen. I can hold out that long. It’s just sitting and clapping.”

The event lasted well after midnight. Freddie was exhausted and had missed a dose of pain medicine by the time it was done. But he held out and endured the event with the same long-suffering he had endured the last three years. There was nothing his life could give out that he could not handle.

They were clapping for some event, the last event when Freddie felt the temperature drop by like twenty degrees. He pulled his scarf around his neck, but a shiver went down his spine. The music on the speakers was blaring in his ears making his head pound, and he felt the room spin a little. Closing his eyes, he tried to take a deep breath and concentrate on just being still, but it was no use.

“I’ll be back,” he mumbled to Jim, and he went to the restroom. Finding it empty, because everyone was watching the main event, Freddie went to the commode and vomited. After flushing the commode and cleaning himself up, Freddie turned around and saw Brian there watching over him.

“I like to do this alone,” said Freddie.

“How long had you felt nauseous?” asked Brian.

“Between all the experiments and the medicines it is a daily struggle,” said Freddie. “It was a typical day, but in this monkey suit, with all these people, it got worse.”

“Okay, let’s leave.”

“No, I feel fine now.”

“Freddie, come here mate.”

Freddie walked over to him and Brian held out his hand. At once, Freddie backed away.

“We can’t touch each other in the loo. Are you mad?” cried Freddie.

“I’m feeling for a fever, you prat!” yelled Brian. “Come here!”

Freddie stomped over and Brian felt Freddie’s forehead, and then his pulse.

“You have a fever,” said Brian, “and your pulse is flying. You need to go straight to bed. It is too late to call Dr. Peters, we can ring him in the morning.”

“Fine.”

Brain led Freddie out of the bathroom, and back to the table. The event was over, and everyone was talking and shaking hands. Freddie was trying to blend in and try to get away from it all and head to the car, but he heard something that made him stop in his tracks.

“Melina,” said someone.

Freddie smiled and turned around said, “Sharron!” and hugged his friend, Elton John.

“You’re burning up,” said Elton.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have hugged you.”

“It’s not that. I’m worried about you, you twit. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” lied Freddie. But when he saw Elton’s raised eyebrow, he admitted, “Well, I’m calling it an early night.”

“You need something?” asked Elton concerned.

“Keep the vultures from circling?”

“Anything for you babe. How are you, Brian?”

“Fairly, well. Congratulations Elton,” said Brian, keeping a close eye on Freddie.

“And to you as well. I think I was up for that award. I can’t believe Queen beat me out of it.”

“Well, the important thing is, Sid Vicious is nowhere to be found,” said Brian grinning.

“Yeah, did the Sex Pistols even get nominated this year?” asked Freddie.

“For what? They haven’t made an album in five years,” said Elton.

“Poor bastards need inspiration,” said Brian.

“Never had that problem,” said Freddie.

“Me neither,” grinned Elton. Then he appraised Freddie, “Freddie, go home. You look ghastly. Get some rest, my dear.”

“Oh god, your going to mother hen me too.”

Elton laughed, “What?”

“Freddie has an aversion to people keeping him alive,” said Brian.

Elton rolled his eyes, “Go home, you idiot.”

“Night Elton.”

“Night Freddie. Feel better.”

The gentlemen departed ways and Freddie and Brian went to find his friends.


	30. Chapter 30

Dr. Peters did a full examination with Freddie when they got back to the house that night.

“What are you charging me for after hours?” Freddie mumbled with the thermometer in his mouth.

“If you don’t shut up, I will do this the old fashioned way,” threatened Peters, taking out the thermometer, shaking it and putting it back in Freddie’s mouth. This time Freddie was quiet, and let the doctor tend to him. “And to answer your question, you just won an Award for most Outstanding Contribution to British Music in history award. You can afford me.” Then he pulled the thermometer out. “101.7. You have a fever.”

Freddie sighed.

Peters also checked Freddie’s pulse. It was 99 beats per minute. “Your body thinks you ran a marathon,” he said.

“I feel like I just ran a marathon. My god, I just walked on stage and said ‘Thank you, Goodnight’.”

“As much as I applaud you for being active, I think we need to change the definition a little bit.”

“I am homebound now, aren’t I?” Freddie asked.

Peters nodded.

“We are working on an album. It’s called Innuendo, and I will be damned if I don’t finish it.”

“Are you telling me that you are not going to die from this virus, but you are going to work yourself to death? I need to take your blood pressure,” Peters said putting a cuff around Freddie’s arm and squeezing the bulb rapidly. “136/80, it’s high.”

“I feel fine. I am still Freddie fucking Mercury.”

“You said you just feel like you ran a marathon. Which is it?”

“Alright, I’m exhausted, but I am not ill.”

“You have a headache?”

“Little bit,” whispered Freddie.

“And you vomited.”

“Yes.”

“Let me listen to your lungs,” said Peters.

Freddie sat up, and the doctor put the stethoscope to his chest and listened to his heart and lungs. Freddie breathed as even as he could for a minute, and then the doctor let him lie back down. 

“Alright, your lungs are clear which rules out pneumonia. But I think you have a nasty case of influenza. Stay in bed, eat, drink water, ride this out. The main thing is to stay in bed until that fever breaks. Stay hydrated.”

Freddie murmured his thanks, and then shook hands with the doctor. Peters walked out and Freddie settled into his bed to rest. He knew Jim would not sleep next to him tonight, it was too dangerous with a fever so Freddie made himself more comfortable in the middle of the bed, and tried to keep awake. He was so tired, but he knew the boys were going to come say good night, then someone was going to come check on him, and then he could finally rest.

Deaky was the first one to pop his head in, followed by Brian and Roger.

“Hi,” said Freddie.

“To hell with the awards,” said Roger. “It’s more pompous to refuse an appearance every now and again anyway. Makes you look important.”

“It makes us look like assholes,” said Freddie. “And I am glad I went. I had fun. I think I have a headache cause I am drunk, not sick.”

“You didn’t drink anything, Fred,” said Brian. “Actually, I don’t think you have eaten in twenty four hours.”

“Anything I eat will come out of me one way or another in two hours, you can set you watch by it,” said Freddie.

“We should try some broth or something,” murmured Brian. “Your sugar is going to crash, then you are really going to be in for it.”

“Ginger ale and crackers are what we give the kids on an upset stomach to keep their sugar up,” said Deaky.

“Perfect,” said Roger, “between here and Mary’s you're bound to have that,” and he left to go get Freddie his food.

Freddie gave Brian a look, that meant that he wanted to tell him a secret, something Deaky probably couldn’t handle. Brian nodded a little, and thought for a second.

“You look like you're about to pass out, Fred,” said Brian. “Hey John, can you go get Mary and Jim so Freddie can say good night. I’ll stay with him and try to keep him awake.”

“Yeah, sure,” said John, and he went to go get Mary and Jim.

“What’s up?” asked Brian, when John shut the door.

“You win,” said Freddie.

“At what?”

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Brian nodded, turning his head away. For a minute, Brian didn’t say anything and then finally Freddie saw his shoulders moving up and down rapidly.

“Brian?”

Letting out a sob, Brian turned back to Freddie with tears going down his face. “I don’t want to win, you asshole!” he sobbed.

Freddie held out his arms, and Brian embraced him, and cried for a minute. Brian stopped crying, and he backed away from Freddie and whipped his face. 

“I think Queen should stop making public appearances,” said Brian.

Freddie nodded. “That would help a lot.”

“And we are taking it easy in the studio, okay. We can cut Innuendo short or take our time on it. No more long hours. We rest when we need to and that is it. We are done pushing ourselves to the limit. My god, we are in our forties, almost.”

“I don’t want to cut it short, but yeah take our time on it.”

“If you can’t do something, or straight up don't want to, just fucking tell us. We can re-work anything. I mean we have been doing that for twenty years.”

“I don’t want special treatment.”

“It’s not special treatment. My god do you remember the discussions we had in that shitty farmhouse about Roger’s damn car song?”

Freddie chuckled.

“All I am saying is,” said Brian. “You have never done something you don't want to do. Why start now?”

“All right,” said Freddie. “I’ll stop pushing myself so hard. But we are not cutting Innuendo.”

“Fine. Get some rest, you idiot.”

“Good night, poodle head.” 

Mary came up and said goodnight briefly, giving Freddie a kiss on the cheek. Deaky and Roger came back up with the crackers and ginger ale, and then all of them went home so Freddie could rest. Then his family came in and said goodnight. His mother fussed over his blankets and pillows, and kissed him on the forehead, Kashmina squeezed his hand, and his father stood at the window, as if ready to strike if something dared attack his son. 

After they all left, Jim changed into his pajamas, but instead of going next door to Mikos room, he dragged a chair up the stairs from the kitchen and got himself comfortable.

“You're sleeping in that?” asked Freddie.

“We're taking shifts,” said Jim. “In two hours, Kashmina is going to come get me. She will sit up with you and make sure you are alright, and I’ll go lay down.” Then Jim looked at him. “If that is alright. I can stay all night, pet.”

“You're not sleeping in a chair all night, Jim. It’s rubbish that you are sleeping in it for two hours.”

“You would do the same for me.”

“In a heartbeat.”


	31. Chapter 31

Freddie rested but because of his fever he was having nightmares. Suddenly he remembered Paul getting him alone, in those months before LiveAid and them being together that were different than Freddie and Jim.

“Please Paul not tonight,” Freddie would beg. “I'm so tired.”

“We don’t have to do anything, slut,” said Paul. “I got those pictures of you to keep me warm.”

Freddie remembered having to be in a drunken blur to keep up with Paul’s demands on his body. Paul was so exhausting that Freddie had collapsed twice, and Paul had simply continued without him. Freddie screamed no, and tried to get the body off him, but it was little use.

“Shh, Freddie,” came Mary’s voice when she had come to rescue him.

“Mary,” he tried to speak, but for some reason he was too exhausted. “Run, darling,” he murmured.

“Freddie, drink this.” And a warm soup was brought to his lips by a spoon.

Freddie bit on the spoon and slurped the soup down. It was a delicious chicken broth with spices that his mom used to make. It made him so homesick for his family.

“Mum,” murmured Freddie.

“Yes, Freddie,” came Mary’s voice. “Your mum made this. Can you have some more?”

Freddie moaned. In his dream, he heard Paul laughing.

“Freddie, we aren’t done until I say we are done, you slut!” screamed Paul.

“No,” Freddie moaned.

“Come on Freddie,” said Mary. “Drink a little more.”

The next time Freddie came out of the darkness, he could hear a guitar. It was an acoustic guitar, playing “Somebody to Love.”

His nightmare was gone, but he was so tired, he couldn’t get his eyes open. He tried to speak to the guitarist, but he started to cough, and the room got chilly.

“Get under the covers, Fred,” said Deaky, suddenly beside him. Hands started tucking him in, and smoothing out his blankets. “Stay warm, Freddie. Stay warm.”

Freddie tried to open his eyes, or say something in acknowledgement, but all he could manage was a small sigh of contentment before he fell back into oblivion.

“He’s been asleep for two days,” said someone, his father.

“He’s resting,” said his mother.

“He’s so flushed.”

“He has a fever.”

“How high is it?”

“102.7 when we took it this morning. It is staying around 102.5.”

“They say it is just the flu?”

“A bad case, but yes.”

“What do we do?”

“Exactly what we are doing.”

“The whole household is in an uproar because of you, pet,” came Jims voice. “The cats are searching for you. Delilah is sitting on top of the piano and wondering why it hasn’t been played. All of the cats are in their rooms very depressed. I can barely get them to eat. I think they miss you coming around the house singing.

“Furthermore, your fever is hovering, and you are unconscious so everyone is trying to decide what is the best way to take care of you, and no one is agreeable. Mary and your mother are butting heads, the band members are perfectly intolerable of each other because you were the peacekeeper, and I am ashamed to say that your father and I are not speaking. I do need you to wake up pet, if only for a little while to give us some hope. I could use a great deal of hope right now. Come on pet. Can you show me those gorgeous eyes?...Thank you.”

“Today is set to be cloudy with a fifty percent chance of rain, with a low of fifty and a high of sixty,” said Brian. “Hmm, going to be a bit chilly, but that is expected for October. In other news, the first sumo wrestling tournament hosted outside Japan, is being hosted in the Royal Albert Concert Hall in South Kensington, London tomorrow night.”

“Good god,” moaned Freddie. “They are wrestling in the opera house!”

Brian laughed, folded up the newspaper, and grabbed Freddie’s hand. “I knew you were listening. I figured if I read the paper something would prick his ears. How do you feel, Freddie?”

“Hungry. But why are we having wrestling matches in the opera house?”

“So they can be televised. I’ll get you some soup.”

Brain left the paper, and Freddie read the rest and saw that the matches were indeed going to be televised and he believed that this was the most ridiculous thing in the world. A televised wrestling match from an opera house? He looked at the date on the newspaper.

“I have been asleep for three days and the world has lost its mind,” he mumbled to himself.

“Freddie,” cried someone, and Freddie looked up from his paper and saw that it was Roger. “Oh, Fred, they said you were up.”

“Have you heard about this?” asked Freddie. “Turning an opera house into a wrestling ring? It’s outrageous.”

Roger laughed, “Only you would wake up from a good feverish nap to save the opera houses. It’s for one night Fred and the opera is getting a cut.”

“I don’t want to live on the planet any more.”

“How do you feel?”

“Awful. God awful.”

“How did you feel before you found out about the opera houses?”

“I felt fine.”

“You were having some nightmares. We didn’t really know what to do. You didn’t even let Mary touch you.”

“It was a feverish dream. I’m fine.”

“I know you don’t want to do anything about it publicly. But Miami is willing to cut his breaks.”

“Roger!”

“It doesn’t have to be Miami.”

“ROGER!”

“He hurt my friend.”

“I had a fever. My mind did interesting things. If you want to help me, help me forget about it.”

“Okay. I still think we should cut his breaks.”


	32. Chapter 32

Freddie had fully recovered from his fever and was up and about. He was his old happy, charming self again, but instead of dying to get out of the house, he was very happy to stay home and just have dinner with his friends. At the request of Freddie, Paul Prenter was never mentioned, and Prenter’s assassination was tabled.

When Freddie was feeling well enough, he came out and saw Mary’s lovely garden, just the two of them. Everything was beautiful now that spring was setting in, and the plants were popping up full of life. Freddie realized that he wasn’t feeling full of life and wonder anymore when the band just started and he proposed to Mary, he felt like he was more in autumn or winter now.

Speaking of that proposal, Freddie grabbed Mary’s hand and kissed it. He glanced at it and saw that Mary had her ring on her finger, which made him very happy.

“When I am gone,” he said softly.

“Freddie,” cried Mary.

“Listen,” he shushed her. “That fever was very real, and I realized I could have died. I didn’t prepare you for what I want you to do when it happens. And it will happen, darling. When I am gone, I want you to cremate me, alright. Let my parents have their Zoristarian funeral. I want Papa, Mama, and Kassi to have peace about all of this. But I want you to take me to our spot. Do you remember it?”

Mary had tears running down her face, but she nodded yes.

“It is very important that you mustn’t tell anyone. Tell everyone you have to go away on business or run an errand for me. Be gone for days, weeks. Don’t let anyone follow you. I don’t want people to dig me up and do God knows what to my ashes. My body has been through enough.”

“Okay, Freddie,” she said.

“Now I am going to tell you a secret, but you have to ask surprised when I die.”

“What?”

“I am going to leave a small portion to my parents, enough for them to live on. And enough for Jim to be happy. But my fortune goes to you, Mary.”

“Freddie!”

“You’re my wife, and you have always have been. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I cheated on you on that damn tour in America. I’m sorry we didn’t work. If I was a different man, we would have been a family, a happy one. You, Me, Richie, and Jamie. That could have been a nice picture.”

“That’s not who you are.”

“I know. I have been happy with who I am. Relived actually. But one of the worse things about it was that I had to give up you. We made it work. Tried to handle things in an adult manner. Been the best of friends. But let’s face it, we lost each other, in a way. I know you almost hate Jim because he stole me away. You have never approved of any of my lovers for that very reason. And to be honest, I hate Piers for the same thing. We are more than friends, but we are not lovers. We are married without the sex. It is the oddest thing that I have ever heard, and I am sorry because it is my fault.”

“It’s not your fault,” she said crying. “You love two people at the same time. Actually, so do I. I loved Piers, but someone so much as mentioned your name it was like my heart stopped. You just love me and Jim. It’s complicated, but what good love story isn’t. And you never lost me, Freddie, we just realized who we were to each other. We can handle giving each other ‘almost everything’.”

Freddie stopped and looked at her, “You are still the most beautiful women I have ever met. And the love of my life.”

Mary laughed, “I still worship you.”

They hugged for a brief moment and he kissed her on the cheek.

“Everyone will be angry that I do that with your ashes,” said Mary.

“It’s in my will. It is also in my will that it is a secret. Please darling take it to the grave. I couldn’t stand becoming a shrine of some kind.”

“I will, Freddie.” Then she thought for a moment. “So this came up because of the fever?”

“Yes.”

“It didn’t come up because of anything else?”

“No...why?”

“You haven't found anything new? Another foot surgery? A rash?”

“I can’t talk about dying without you thinking there is something wrong with me?”

“Freddie!”

“Alright, while I had my fever, Dr. Peters tended to me and took my blood and checked for which infection I had and whatever.”

“Yeah.”

“I basically had a bad case of the flu. But he found another infection.”

“What?”

“It’s called cytomegalovirus, or something like that.”

“What does it do?”

“Well basically, it attacks the retina. It has medicine, but it only slows down the process it doesn’t cure it.”

“So you're telling me your going blind?”

“I’m going to do an album with Stevie Wonder.”

“This isn’t funny Freddie!”

“Oh, come on, that was clever!”

“Freddie!”

“Listen, this isn’t easy for me to say. I think I need to be mother henned. I have trouble paying the electricity bill. Well, I don't have trouble paying it, I have trouble reading it. And Peters said these pesky little fevers are going to just pop up now and again, which the last one I had terrifying nightmares. And someone has to feed the cats. And I think the therapy appointments are helping but I can’t drive anymore. And I really want to keep everything out of the press. I am just having this horrible notion that I am going to die in the street with all the other AIDS victims.”

“Did you take your medicine or cocaine this morning?”

“Medicine and pain pills.”

“You need to go up a dose.”

“I might have taken them wrong.”

“What did you take?”

“I don't know. They all look the same now.”

Mary sighed. “Come on. Let’s call Peters.”


	33. Chapter 33

“Wait,” said Peters. “You can’t read the labels on the bottles any more and you are trying to remember what the pills are supposed to look like?”

“The only trouble I have are the little yellow ones and the little white ones that look exactly the same,” said Freddie. “They both look white to me.”

“I thought Jim was handling the medicines,” said Peters.

“Jim is seeing to the run of the household, but I am old enough to know when I take my damn medicine.”

“Your eyesight is failing. I would like someone to start assisting you.”

“No,” said Freddie. “I can manage.”

“This is not like memorizing where the keys are on a piano or the strings are on the guitar. I wouldn’t dream of telling you how to do a thing in music, but where it comes to medicine, I hold all the cards, Mr Mercury. If you can’t read the bottles, you don’t know what you're taking, and you need assistance.”

“My evening pain pill is a chalky powdery one that dissolves in my mouth.”

“You can’t taste it then spit it out.”

Freddie sighed. “Is there something we can do about my eyes? A surgery, or something.”

“I’ve been reading up on it. There is nothing that can help.”

Freddie sighed, “Well, very well. I’ll ask Jim if he will be willing to monitor my medicine. How long do I have to wait from this fever until we get back into the damn studio. It’s taken a fucking year to finish Innuendo. We’re almost done with it. It is one of my personal favorites. We just don’t give a fucking shit and do whatever we want. I wrote a song about my cat.”

“Didn’t Dr. Jenkins says something about taking it easy?”

“Oh please, taking it easy is boring. I am not dead yet. I can still work. We are making the music videos, and Brian thought it was just about to kill me, and I sure showed him wrong. I did it in one take.”

“I see you're quite proud of yourself.”

“Why can’t I be? I might be a dying fag, but I am still Freddie Mercury.”

“Freddie, Dr. Jenkins made you agree you wouldn’t call yourself that anymore.”

“Fine, I am a dying queen, is that better?”

“None of this is good. I don’t think you are taking your medicine properly.”

“Oh, God.”

“I want Jim to administer everything. Including pain medicine. I don’t want you stopping your heart by accident.”

“Fine.”

“And I think I will give him a list of everything you are supposed to be on so there is no confusion.”

Freddie laughed, “You think I am taking more than I should on purpose.”

“No, I think you are taking less than you should on purpose. Mary told me about your Rolling Stones comment in America.”

“Fucking hell, I made a joke... a year ago!”

“You still aren’t the most compliant person I have met.”

“Well when the surgeries hurt and most of the pain pills don’t do jack shit! You try and-”

“I know. I can’t imagine what you have been through in the last four years. But remember there is getting tired, and giving up, and sometimes you look like you are giving up.”

“My eyesight is going but you sure as hell don’t look like my damn therapist.”

“Your right, but we both took an oath to look after our patients. Just because he majored on the mind doesn’t mean I didn’t take a class or two on it. Patients who pick and choose what medicine to take and try to play pharmacist typically don't like how they are feeling and are trying to get some sort of high.”

“I have said it before, and I will say it again, live with this pain for an hour, and you will play pharmacist too.”

“Okay, but everytime I come to talk to you, you say you're ready to get back on stage and go on tour.”

“What do you want me to do? Scream my bloody head off and tell you I am in pain?”

“Yes.”

Freddie blinked. “My eyesight is really bad today. I can’t tell if you're joking.”

“Freddie,” said Dr. Peters, “I want you to tell me exactly how you feel. No pretense, no jokes, no more ready to be the leader of Queen. Just tell me how you feel.”

“My mouth hurts.”

“Yes.”

“And my stomach hurts.”

“Yes.”

“I’m very cold.”

“You probably have a fever and chills.”

“I just had a fever, how do I have another one?”

“It’s the virus.”

Freddie sighed. “I can’t see really well.”

“I know.”

“I’m tired.”

“Do you want to go lie down?”

Freddie nodded.

Peters lead him back to the house and upstairs to Freddie's room. After an exam, it was discovered that Freddie had a small fever, which Peters said if he got rest he would get better. Freddie laid down but he was worried about going back to sleep because of the nightmares, but soon his exhausted body made him drift off into a dreamless slumber.


	34. Chapter 34

Author’s Note: This is Fictional!

“Alright,” said Freddie. “We are going to try this.”

“Take one of Mothers Love,” said Richards.

The play back started to record, and the boys started to sing, but they were off, by a beat. John laughed leaning on Roger’s arm. Brian rolled his eyes at his own stupidity.

“We all came in a beat late,” laughed Freddie.

“This is what happens when we sing without coffee,” said Brian.

* * *

“I don't want to make no waves,” sang Freddie. “But can you give me all the love I crave… um, Fuck.”

Deaky laughed. 

“I could do this twenty years ago,” said Freddie. “I’m not that drunk.”

“It’s okay,” said Brian. “Here’s the lyrics.”

“I don’t know the words to my own damn song!” cried Freddie.

* * *

“Lunch!” cried Roger.

“Where do you want to go?” asked Brian.

“Fred, you decide,” said Roger. “What will agree with you?”

“Probably nothing,” said Freddie. “But I have been eating soups a lot more since my illness, and I have been keeping them down better.”

“Oh,” said Roger. “There's a cafe a few blocks from here that just opened this May. They had the best Mulligatawny you ever tasted. And a great BLT to go with it.”

“That and a beer sounds pretty good,” said Deaky.

“Well,” said Freddie. “Chicken soup and some crackers, I might be able to keep down. Let’s go.”

The boys walked to the restaurant, all wearing shades and jackets. They got a table right away because it was a quarter to three and there was hardly no one in the restaurant. The hostess seated them with the dullest look on her face, and dryly said, “your server will be with you.”

Brian stifled a laugh.

“Fun place,” said Deaky dryly.

“Hi,” said a girl, who looked about sixteen fiddiling with her waitress pad and pen. “My name is Sarah, what can I get… Holy hell!”

Freddie laughed. “Hello darling, what kind of beer do you have?”

“Uh, um beer. Right. On tap we have Budwiser, Guinness, Stella Atreolis, and a Carlsberg.”

“I’ll have a Budwiser,” said Roger.

“I want a Guiness,” said Brian. 

“I’ll have the Carlsberg,” said Freddie.

“And I want an Atreolis,” said Deaky.

“Coming right up,” she said.

When she left, the boys started laughing.

“‘Hi my name is Sarah,’” quoted Roger deadpanned, “‘My day has been a shithole, and I work in this dump for minimum wage, and Holy Hell your Queen!’”

“This is why I want to keep going out to restaurants,” said Freddie. “I love doing that to people.”

She came and brought their beers, and got their food orders. Deaky wasn’t sure what to get, and she told him to get a club, because it was really meaty and had crunchy bacon. That sounded amazing, and John switched his order to a club too. So it was two clubs, Freddies soup, and Brian’s salad. She grinned and walked away with a spring in her step towards the kitchen.

“Now we can’t be responsible for that,” said Brian.

“You will be amazed at what these hips can do,” said Roger.

John punched him. “You're old enough to be her father,” he scolded.

“Children, children, please,” said Freddie, “we are in public. Besides, she was looking at me.”

Brian rolled his eyes. “I think the song is coming along nicely.”

“If we finish it by September,” said Freddie, taking a swig of his beer. “It will be a miracle.”

“Come on, Freddie,” said Deaky. “A couple more takes, and we got ourselves a record.”

Freddie sighed, and nodded.

Sarah came with the food and they all dug in, except for Freddie. He took a few bites of his food and suddenly felt like he was going to vomit. He clenched his fist under the table, and forced himself to take another bite of food. He forced himself to take another bite, and this time swallowed bile along with the food.

“Freddie, stop,” said Roger.

Freddie put the spoon down and took a deep breath. Nervously, he looked up through his dark brown lashes and saw his friends looking at him, with pity. He hated pity. He hated himself for earning the pity.

Brian got the check from Sarah and paid. Freddie left a large tip because he really liked her, and they walked out. Brian led the way back to the studio, but instead of going back to work, he got in the car.

“Where are we going?” said Freddie.

“Your done for the day,” said Brian.

“You don’t get to make that decision for me.”

“Freddie you are apparently not even going to listen to your body when you have an upset stomach. There is no way in hell you are not listening to your body over when to stop pushing yourself over these recordings.”

“I am going upstairs,” creid Freddie, and he opened the door to the studio. “For fuck’s sake.”

“Well, you're going by yourself,” said Deaky.

Freddie closed the door, and looked at the band. “What is going on?”

“Freddie,” said Roger. "You were so determined to eat the damn soup you didn’t listen to your body tell you it was going to make you sick. It is one thing to put on a good show, but you are so determined not to act sick, that you're getting yourself sick. We can’t watch it anymore.”

“You keep pushing yourself to stay alive that it is killing you faster,” said Brian.

“What are you saying?” asked Freddie.

“Freddie,” said Brian. “This is the end of Queen.”


	35. Chapter 35

Freddie didn’t think as he pulled into his garage. Jim wasn’t home yet from whatever household errand he was doing, so Freddie went upstairs and had a shower. One of the cats, Jerry, sat on the vanity and watched him, but it was little comfort to Freddie. Since Freddie was cold, he got into his flannel jammies and crawled in bed. Jerry came and jumped up with Freddie surprised to see why his master was so forlorn and dressed for bed at three o’clock in the afternoon.

The door opened and Janet walked in singing to herself. “Oh,” she said. “Mr. Mercury, I am so sorry. I didn’t even know you were home.”

“I just got in,” he whispered.

“I see. Mr. Hutton is at the bank, said he would be back around four, in about an hour.”

“Okay.”

“Are you feeling alright? I can ring Dr. Peters.”

“I have a stomachache, but I really do not want it to be fussed over. Actually, I would like you to ring Miami Beach, and have him call me.”

“Of course, sir.”

Janet left, and Freddie settled down under the covers. He stroked Jerry and tried to relax. He let his eyes close and he drifted off to sleep, knowing that Miami probably wouldn’t answer the moment Janet called, even though that was what Freddie paid him for, and he probably could rest for a few hours. Actually, he only rested for a couple of minutes until the phone rang.

“Hello?” said Freddie, picking up the receiver.

“Are you alright?” asked Miami.

“I’ve been better.”

“The maid rang me, saying you normally don't get in until about six or seven when you're at the studio, and here you are at three o’clock, in your jammies, and you look like you're about to ‘fall to pieces’. Her words.”

“I think the band broke up,” Freddie mumbled.

“What happened?”

“We were recording Innuendo, and then went across the way to have a bite to eat. Having a great time. The waitress was like twenty and a Queen fan, I gave her a big tip. I started feeling sick, but I didn’t want to let on about it, so I kept eating.”

“Uh huh.”

“Then all of a sudden they said instead of going back to the studio, they said we were done for the day.”

“Because you were sick on your stomach.”

“Yeah. They said I am so determined not to act sick, I am getting myself worse, or some shit like that.”

“Sounds like your ultimate denial met their ultimate mother henning.”

“Precisely. They said this was ‘the end of Queen’.”

“Oh my God,” sighed Miami. “Look, that was emotional I am sure. Especially because they are trying to push you in a direction you don’t want to go. But in reality, this is no different than all your other fights. This is about important things and not does the guitar or the drums come in next, but it’s still just a fight. Cool off, lay low, handle it diplomatically, you might need an arbitrator, but it is just a fight. It’s okay. Queen isn’t going anywhere unless you guys want it to.”

“But this isn’t like I think Roger’s car song is stupid but I will put it on the B side and we can laugh about it in thirty years as long as we get Rapsody recorded. This is they are so fucking controlling that I can’t work with a stomachache.”

“Okay, you got to look at it from their perspective. You had a fever last month that nearly killed you. They are on high alert for anything that could possibly harm you.”

“I want to make music with the time I have left.”

“Yes but you are really good at playing Russian Roulette with the time you have left.”

“Besides not taking depression pills because it interferes with pain medicine, what have I done?”

“How about let someone sexually abuse you and not tell anyone?”

“He didn’t abuse me. He slept with me and took photographs.”

“Uh-huh.”

“How is this relevant?”

“You don’t have a very high self-preservation threshold.”

“The virus doesn’t count.”

“I’m not counting it. But Paul, refusal to go to doctors, refusal to take medicine, flushing meds down the toilet, getting into fights at bars. It is not a very high preservation instinct.”

“Paul happened before the virus.”

“And your response to the rest?”

“Do you people get your jollies out of hearing that I am weak?”

“No, we get our jollies out of helping you.”

“Well, maybe I don’t want help.”

“Well, maybe that’s not our problem. Look Freddie, I’m sure you have heard this before, but a lot of people with this virus-”

“Have to suffer through it alone. I know.” Freddie sighed. “I finally told Dr. Peters my symptoms, my real symptoms.”

“So you're even lying to your doctor.”

Freddie laughed, “What the hell is going on with me?”

“Freddie, you know that if you told anyone, I have AIDS and I need you to do X, they would do it right? Me, Mary, the band, Jim, Peters, your parents and Kashmina now.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Then why don’t you do it?”

“Because in reality, I don’t believe it.”

“Then that’s your problem. Take some time and convenience yourself that there are people in your life who love you.”


	36. Chapter 36

Jim, Bomi, Jer, and Kashmira came in the front door in about half an hour laughing hysterically.

“Did he really?” asked Kashmira.

“Oh, yes,” said Jim. “When your brother knows what he wants he goes after it.”

“Freddie?” asked Bomi, “Never.”

“Swear on my life. He dressed her in drag, and snuck her into the bar, and no one noticed they were talking to the Princess all night.”

“Can you do that to me?” asked Kashmira, headed into the kitchen. They didn’t see Freddie in the living room.

“Kassi!” cried Jer.

“I think it would be fun,” said Kashmira. “I would love to see where my big brother parties.”

“Oh,” said Freddie walking into the room. “That was five years ago, Kassi.”

“So you have no desire to party at all?”

“I have no desire to live at all.”

“What?” asked Jer.

“These look good,” said Freddie, pulling out some fresh eggs. “Can we make scrambled eggs in the morning?”

“We can if you stop acting like you're killing yourself tonight,” said Jer.

“Pet, what’s wrong?” said Jim.

“Queen broke up,” said Freddie, putting the eggs away.

“That’s what got you down. This happens every three month,” Jim explained to Freddie’s family. “You can set your watch by it. I swear sometimes they fight so much on an album they break up twice. It just means that they were all acting like children about something and they need to cool off. In one week or so they will be in the studio, cutting up, and acting like it never happened.”

“I don’t think this is like that,” said Freddie.

“Why not?” said Kashmira.

“They gave me an ultimatum, and I said no.”

“What was it?” asked Jer.

“We were in the studio and we were recording, and then we got hungry, so we popped over to the dinner for a bite to eat, and the food was making me nauseous, but I ate it anyway. Then they noticed, and we got in a big fight about… I don’t even know, sort of, it’s my body and I get to do what I want was my argument, and their argument was I wasn’t taking care of myself and I was killing myself faster, whatever, and we broke up.”

“Freddie,” whispered Kashmira.

“It’s my body!”

“But they are your friends.”

“They don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“Well who does?” said Bomi. “All your life you had to do things your own way, your own priorities, you don't answer to anyone. Who the hell tells you what to do Farrokh?"

“Bomi, don't do this!” said Jer. “Freddie, just walk away.”

“What would be better Papa?” asked Freddie. “That I get a job in the government, come home to a woman every night, and raise a family. I tried to do that, but you didn’t even like Mary, she was too white for you!”

“If you would just be-”

“Normal?”

“Humble. Just for once in your life do what you're told. My god, you don’t listen to the doctors.”

“I want to live my life my way.”

“You're flying too close to the sun, Icarus.”

“At least I’m flying! What do you do?”

“I support my family. You don’t even have one. You don't even have a wife or children to mourn you when you die from this disease.”

“Bomi,” said Jer. “That’s enough.”

“I have the band and Mary and Jim,” protested Freddie.

“Who you're fighting with all the time,” said Bomi.

“I don’t give a fuck if I’m mourned,” said Freddie. “Do us all a big favor and show yourself out.” 

Freddie went out to the garage and got into the Rolls-Royce. He pulled out and floored it toward the other side of London.

Freddie was three shots of Vodka into the night, and it was only six in the evening. When suddenly a girl came up to him and asked him to buy her a drink. Freddie stared at her for a minute and recognized it was Kashmira.

“Oh dear god,” he said.

“It took you a second. How gone are you?”

“Kassie, go home.”

“No, I am here to drive you back safely.” She got the bartender's attention. “One beer please, and cut him off.”

“No, don't cut me off, I have money. Lots of it.”

“Freddie,” said Kashmira.

“Yeah,” he said.

“You know this much alcohol is bad for you.”

“Oh to hell with it. I’m dying anyway.”

“Hey, I remember going through my divorce. There are parts of life that just hurt, and you just gotta get through them.”

“Dad wants me normal, we tried to make amends but we didn’t, and Queen wants me bubble wrapped, and I can’t live like that.”

“I know. Look you're going to get through this, okay. It’s not going to look how you want it to, but it is going to happen. God is going to take care of you.”

“God stopped giving a damn about me when I left Mary.”

“No, she loves you. You're her favorite.”

Freddie laughed, “We used to tell each other that as kids.”

“Mum told us that.”

“Can you take me home?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll probably never remember this conversation, but it was a nice one.”

“That’s okay.”

They paid, and got outside, and Freddie threw up on Kasmira's shoes.

“The booze, and the medicine,” said Freddie looking mortified. “I’ll buy you new ones.”

“Do you know how many times I vomited on my own shoes in college?” asked Kasmira, laughing. She kissed his forehead, and found it to be burning. Was he officially just walking with a fever now? “Get in the car.”

They got in and Freddie slept on the way back to his house. He didn’t know that Miami followed them in his car. When they got home Kashmira and Jim put Freddie to bed, and he was running a fever of 100.9, which Kashmira blamed the vomiting on that, because Freddie was never that drunk.

She had to throw the shoes away because even after washing them twice, she couldn’t get rid of the smell. She was disappointed, they were her third date shoes, but she told Freddie they were some old heels she had forever and needed to be thrown out anyway. Two weeks later, a package came to Garden Lodge address to her with no return label. It was those shoes in her size, which was amazing, because the bar was too dark for Freddie to see what she was wearing.


	37. Chapter 37

Freddie picked up the phone receiver and stared at the keypad. Oh, Fuck, Brian, Roger, or Deaky. Brian was the one playing nursemaid all the time, and Deaky was the one scared to death that he was going to break at a moment’s notice, so he might make some traction with Devil-may-care Roger.

He dialed Roger’s number.

“Hello,” said Roger.

“Roger? It’s Freddie.”

“Fred, how have you been?”

“Just fucking awful. I have been fighting with everybody.”

“We have too. Brian says it's a curse when we break up or go on a break or whatever. Our lives fall apart.” 

“I went out for a night on the town with Kashmina and got sick. It’s like now I can’t eat anything.”

“Aw fuck Fred. Where did you go?”

“Just to a bar a few blocks from here.”

“How many beers did you have?”

“I had three shots of Vodka.”

“That would make anyone sick you, prat. Were not twenty anymore.”

“Oh, shut up, I can still drink you under the table.”

“Wait a minute, we were having alcohol at the restaurant, too.”

“So?”

“Freddie, maybe the alcohol is interfering with your medicine and making you sick.”

“I’m not giving up Vodka.”

“I’m not saying give it up but talk to Peters about it. If alcohol can make you sicker, then maybe that is what you need to be wary of, not food.”

“No, I have already talked to Peters. Nausea comes with the territory between the drugs and the illness itself.”

“Oh okay. Then at least alcohol is a pain killer.”

“Right.” Sighing, Freddie continued, “Listen, I don’t want to not speak to each other and leave you some god-forsaken note at my funeral, can we all talk?”

“For fuck sake, yes of course. Where?”

“Just come by my place sometime.”

“We will be over in thirty minutes.”

* * *

In half an hour, Brian, Deaky, and Roger were all staring at Freddie in his living room, and no one could think of what to say. Freddie tried to think of how to best explain things from his point of view. He got up and went to stare out the window so he didn’t have to look at them while he said this.

“I don’t mind being dead,” said Freddie. “But dying is awful. You feel fucking horrible, and people treat you like you are taking your last breath every twenty minutes or something. I mean there we were finally back in the studio, laughing like it was the seventies and we all looked like porn stars, and I couldn’t finish fucking chicken soup. And I love chicken soup, at least the way mom makes it. I got so mad. I don’t think I have been that angry in a while. And I knew if I acted sick you would all get this horrible look on your faces. So I’d be damned if I didn’t finish it. Then I looked up and you were all looking at me with fucking pity on your face. I know what to do when people get angry at me, I know what to do when people get sad about my death, but pity like ‘poor Freddie, can’t even finish the chicken soup, might as well put him in a dark room and let him die alone like the fag he is’, I can’t fucking stand it. Then we stopped talking, and I went off and got drunk off my ass and threw up all of Kassie’s shoes. I know I was an asshole but can you understand where I was coming from.”

He turned around, and none of the boys were looking at him. Deaky was picking at a pillow so hard he was probably going to ruin it. Roger was playing the drum set of Somebody to Love on his knees and looking up at the ceiling like he was about to take a nap. And Brian had Found a pencil and was curling his hair. Freddie knew his boys well enough to know that his little heart-to-heart was weighing heavy on them and they were processing his words. They all sat for a moment and thought.

“There has got to be a logical solution,” said Brian finally. “There is some way where you can live your life and we don’t feel like your next hair-brained scheme will kill you.”

“Life is about taking risks,” said John. “Queen is about taking risks. But there is taking risks and there is being stupid.”

“Before we analyze the situation, can I say something?” asked Roger. “We don’t pity you, Fred. And the doctor is right, you got it on some sort of tape recorder that everyone thinks ‘poor Freddie, he’s gay, dying of AIDS, we must protect him’. That is not what we think. Here is what we think. ‘Freddie is probably the funniest person I know. He is smart, loyal, witty, clever. But he’s got this disease and he is not being careful! And that’s scaring us!’”

“He’s right,” said Brian. “We mother hen you because you are too stupid to mother hen yourself.”

“Fine,” said Freddie.

“There has got to be something that will make you feel like you are alive that won’t scare us to death,” said Roger.

“Guys,” said Freddie, “There is nothing that we can do.”

“Wait a minute,” said Deaky. “What is the date?”

“Um,” said Freddie. “I don’t even know.”

“August 28, 1991. It is seven minutes past 8,” said Brian matter of factly.

Freddie rolled his eyes.

“What? He asked for the date,” insisted Brian.

“We have a party to plan,” said Deaky.

“Oh god,” said Freddie. “Absolutely not.”

“Forty-five,” cried Roger, “You’re getting old.”

“Brian please make them stop,” pleaded Freddie.

“After what you put me through in July,” said Brian. “We are having a party, Freddie.”


	38. Chapter 38

“What were you thinking, sir?” asked Joe Fanelli, Freddie’s chef who used to be his boyfriend. It was kind of a tradition, “come to my house become my boyfriend, and so we don’t tell our parents I’m gay, I’ll pay you to do something.” Freddie got Jim the same way.

“Nothing fancy, Joe,” said Freddie. “And I told you, I’m Freddie when we’re alone.”

“Alright, Freddie,” said Joe. “Chocolate?”

“Of course.”

“And Champagne.”

“Yes.”

“And Wine.”

“Sure. What are you doing?”

“Well you said nothing fancy, but I want to get the definition of fancy.”

Brian walked in. “Hey, Joe.”

“Hi, Brian. We are getting details for the party. Freddie said nothing fancy.”

“No, no. This is a ‘champagne in glass slipper’ celebration. We are having thirty guess, thirty courses, and thirty wines.”

“Oh,” laughed Joe. “I see. I guess I better do some shopping.” And he headed off to the kitchen with a grin.

“Who made this decision?” asked Freddie.

“Jim, Mary, and the band,” said Brian. “It’s been too damn depressing around here. Want a drink?”

“What is this? Have I seen the end of the mother henning age?”

“No,” said Brian pouring a glass of Vodka for Freddie, and getting a beer for himself. “We still think you should take your medicine and not go off the deep end, but we are calling a truce.”

“A truce?”

“Don’t die, or land yourself in the fucking hospital, and on your birthday you can do whatever you want. Within reason.”  
“Splendid!” grinned Freddie.

“Within reason!” cried Brian.

The boys clinked glasses and took a sip.

Freddie did whatever he fucking wanted on his birthday, and no it was not within reason.

He came down the stairs wearing jeans, no shirt, and the royal robe and crown he wore on stage. Jim, who was sitting at the breakfast bar, chuckling and bowed at the waist.

“Your majesty,” said Jim. “But I think this is a suit and tie occasion.”

“It’s my birthday,” said Freddie. “I can wear what I want.”

“Very good sir,” said Jim, “And how do you want me to explain your apparel to your parents?”

“Aw, fuck my parents are coming!” cried Freddie.

“It is your forty-fifth birthday, and you are their only son, so yes I assume they are coming.”

“Damn! I wanted to wear this to the party.”

Jim chuckled.

“What time is the party?” asked Freddie.

“6 on the dot.”

“I’ll wear this til five fifteen and then I’ll change into the monkey suit, and I’ll be ready for the guest to arrive.”

“Okay,” laughed Jim.

The butler came in, “Ahem, Ms. Mary is here, sir.”

“Show her in, Charles, thank you,” said Freddie.

Mary walked in, wearing a beautiful white blouse and had her hair done, for the special occasion, and when she saw Freddie, a smile crept over her face, and she bubbled up in laughter.

“What on earth?” she giggled.

“This is what I am wearing to the party. What?” said Freddie.

“Freddie,” she said. “You know I love your wardrobe, but this may be too bold.”

“It’s my birthday,” said Freddie.

“Some people wear suits made just for the occasion,” said Jim.

“Yes,” said Mary. “I suppose I should be grateful your majesty is not completely naked. But Freddie your Mum's going to be there.”

“She's seen me naked,” said Freddie.

“When you were six,” laughed Mary.

“Are you going to Mother hen me on my birthday?” said Freddie putting his hands on his hips exposing his chest even more.

“I am not mother henning you,” laughed Mary, “But you look ridiculous.”

“I look ridiculous?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Hello,” cried Brian.

“Where is the birthday boy?” cried Roger.

“Up here,” cried Freddie.

Brian, Rogger, and Deaky came in and when they saw Freddie, Brian and Deaky grinned, and Roger died laughing.

“Your Majesty,” said Deaky, bowing.

“Where’s your shirt?” asked Brian.

“I don’t want one.”

“Has he been in that all day, Jim?” asked Roger.

“Oh yes, crown and everything.”

“Are you going to wear that this evening?” asked Deaky.

“I haven't decided,” said Freddie.

“I think you should.”

“Absolutely not,” said Mary.

“Oh come on. Mary, where's your sense of fun?” asked Roger.

“This is a formal event, not one of your concerts,” fumed Mary. “This is important to me.”

“Mary, its my birthday,” said Freddie. “What is the big deal?”

“Well it very well could be your last birthday and I want to do it right!”

The room fell silent as Freddie stared into Mary. It was not a loving stare that he always had for her, but a cold, angry stare that came from a bitter fight. Freddie hated fighting with Mary, because it was like fighting with a part of himself. Neither of them ever came out the winner and both of them ended up hurting each other. Freddie was furious that Mary would make a mountain out of a molehill today.

“Well you do it exactly how you want it Mary,” said Freddie. “And tell me how it turns out. I’m going upstairs.”

And he stormed up the stairs. Moaning he had no clue what to do and he realized that he needed to change into the monkey suit, since his parents were going to be at the party, but he liked his crown. Groaning he plopped down on the bed. There was a meow at the door, and Freddie let Miko in, who was a small little black fluffy cat with a white paw

“Hello Miko,” said Freddie, scooping up the little cat. “How are you today? Hmm? Did you come to cheer Daddy up? I needed it.”

Miko meowed and purred in Freddie’s arms, and Freddie scratched behind Miko’s ear, which Miko liked very much. Freddie put Miko on the bed and sighed. “Cats are lucky, Miko. They don’t give a damn if they are impressive to anyone. I have to live up to everyone's expectations and it is so damn infuriating.” Freddie rummaged through his closet. “Do you think a classic suit and tie will appease her?”

Miko tilted his head.

“Yes I agree. Keep it simple. Why am I changing? Oh it’s a long story, darling. What happened was…”


	39. Chapter 39

Freddie got back down stairs and tried to have a good time. Everyone was talking and drinking and laughing, and Freddie joked that he was disappointed that a girl did not pop out of the cake, to which Joe hit him, then wished him a very happy birthday.

“Where have you been, Fred?” slurred Roger, stumbling around, and Brian holding him up. “You have to try these wines,” he said. “I’ve- I’ve had five of them.”

“And we haven't been served one course yet,” said Deaky.

Freddie smiled, “Easy Roger, or you're going to go home with the wrong band again.”

Roger drunkenly shook his head. “We...We brought a driver this time. I was sm-smart.”

“Learn from your mistakes,” said Brian.

“Aw, they would have taken me in,” said Roger. “I can out drum any prat any day, name the date and time.”

“Roger,” said Brian, “If you can stand, I will give you a thousand pounds. Cash.”

Roger got up to stand, and he fell down back in the seat, nearly hitting the guest next to him. “Whoa! Whoa! Are you alright, mate?” he asked Freddie. 

“Roger,” said Freddie, “You're supposed to sip the wines.”

“Well, what’s the fun in that?”

“Brian,” asked Freddie. “Can you sit with him to make sure he doesn’t fall on his ass and go home with the wrong people? I hate for him to end up in Chinatown.”

“Sure.”

“Oh, I love Chinese! Are we having Chinese, Freddie?” slurred Roger.

Freddie rolled his eyes and walked into the kitchen to get away from everything. When he got into the kitchen Freddie, literally considered pulling his hair out. He actually ran his fingers through his glossy black hair and started pulling. He pulled so tight he wanted to scream.

“Freddie Mercury, enough!” cried Jer.

“Mama, Mary and I are fighting and Roger is drunk off his ass!”

“Who gives a shit?”

“What?”

“Who gives a shit! Come here,” she said, holding out her arms.

Freddie walked up and he hugged her.

“Hmm. I can’t believe that forty-five years ago God gave us you. It was my favorite gift beside your sister.”

“I love you, Mom.”

“Freddie,” said Jer. “You started today with the right idea. Let’s have fun and not worry about life for a day. What happened?”

“People, and by people, I mean Mary, kept saying it was going to be my last birthday. And it had to be perfect.”

“Oh, sweetheart, no one knows how long they have. That is why we live each day as if it is a gift from God. Yes, we're all emotional, but we have been emotional for months now. Come on, I want to try this Italian white wine, with a slice of birthday cake.”

“We can’t drink.”

“We can’t have a live-in boyfriend, and lie to your mother about it. What’s your point?”

“You are never going to let that go, are you?”

“No. For seven years. I could have made matching sweaters for Christmas.”

“You see that is why I didn’t tell you. What rock star wants matching sweaters for Christmas?”

“The one who honors his mother, now come on!”

Freddie smiled and followed his Mom to the wine and food. Then he thought, hmm yes, always go to the wine and food.

“By the way we have matching sweaters,” said Freddie.

“But not ones I made you.”

Chuckling, Freddie shook his head. “No, not ones you made us.”

“Your getting them for this Christmas,” said Jer.

“Okay, Mom.”

“And you are getting it early so I can get a Christmas card.”

“Fine mom.”

“This wine is delicious, Freddie. What is it?”

“It’s a blend from France.”

“Is it expensive?”

“Yes, but the lawyer says that I have 50 million pounds to my name, so I can afford a few bottles of wine.”

His mother laughed. “I dare say you can,” she said. After sipping the wine, she said, “it’s good.”

“Yes, I love wine.”

“Mmm. It’s good with the cake.”

“Oh yes definitely.”

“Jim said you came down the stairs wearing nothing but a crown and that robe you wear on stage.”

“Jim is a filthy liar. I had pants on.”

Jer laughed. “You are so different when you perform on stage It is hard to believe that it is my son up there.”

“Wait, when have you seen me perform?” 

“Oh,” said Jer. “Your father and I were supposed to take this to the grave but I suppose you should know. First, Kassie has been to two of your concerts. One was during the early days during your first tour, I think the album was called Queen I or Queen II, any way she went to one of those. Then all of us went to see you in Hyde Park in ‘76. We got there early so we can be in the middle and a few rows back. It was the first time I had ever heard you sing like that. I just cried the whole time I was so proud of you. Then you did a lot of tours all over and you got so big it was hard to get tickets. But the next time we saw you perform was Live Aid live on Television. That wasn’t live of course, but we watched you. Then Kashmira surprised us on our anniversary for a Magic Tour ticket in London. Great seats, fourth row from the stage. Your father and I went. So technically, I have only seen you live twice.”

“You and Dad have seen me perform live?” said Freddie, astonished. 

“Yes,” she said. “I have half a mind to wash your mouth out with soap for the way you behave on that stage young man.”

Freddie chuckled. “Sorry Mama. Do you like it? The music I mean.”

“Oh yes. The music is just beautiful. And the lyrics. I can't believe you write that stuff.”

“The boys write some of it too.”

“And you get the whole audience singing Freddie. When you stopped, and the audience started singing back to you, I just broke down in tears. I could not believe that you had done that.”

“I wished I would have known you were there. I would have gotten you better tickets, and free, and backstage passes.”

“I know. But it was nice just being part of the crowd. Just being in a sea of people who adored you. It was like meeting you for the first time. I will never forget it.”


	40. Chapter 40

Later into the evening, Freddie was sipping wine and playing a piano, when someone came up behind him. He turned around to see Joe.

“Hey,” Freddie said. “Everything was exquisite.”

“I tried to make things that wouldn’t upset your stomach.”

“Darling, I had thirty glasses of wine. I am going to sleep on the bathroom floor tonight.”

Joe smiled. “Happy Birthday Freddie.”

“You know I don’t ask every boyfriend to come live with me and work with me.”

“I know. I’m going to bed. Good night. How’s fruit and oatmeal for breakfast?”

“Great.”

“Night.”

“Night.”

Freddie went back to playing the piano, when a pair of high heels came quietly into the room.

“Hello,” said Freddie without turning around.

“Do you not want your present, Mr. Mercury?” asked someone.

Freddie turned around and saw Janet holding a box with a bow on it, and Freddie grinned and opened it. Inside was a nice bottle of Saint Saphorin. Freddie grinned. “Oh, darling, how did you know?”

“Well, we were running low,” said Janet. “I am the maid.”

“Share a glass with me?”

Janet was shocked. “Me?”

“Sure. Why not?”

Janet laughed. “Okay.”

Freddie got the glasses, and poured the wine. Janet and him drank to the love of life, Freddie’s words, and they drank.

“So what part of England are you from?” asked Freddie.

“Actually, I am a foreigner. I was born in the Netherlands, but I grew up in Britain since I was five. I don’t have an accent anymore.”

“We have something in common. I was born on a South African Island called Zanzibar. My father got transported to England when I was little for government reasons. Everyone thinks I’m from Pakistan. My sister gets India all the time.”

Janet laughed. “I’m sorry that is not funny.”

“It’s fine.”

“Can I ask something?”

“Sure.”

“Mr. Beach said that you got cross with my predecessor. Obviously, I haven't done what she did, but I would like to know, so I don't repeat it.”

“She failed to keep the cats inside, and Delilah got sick.”

“Oh yes. I feed her medicine everyday. I didn’t know that was new. I thought that had been going on for years. I am so sorry.”

“Part of life my dear. Dying is a part of life.”

“Can I ask you something personal?”

Freddie took a sip of wine. “You can try. Hardly anyone succeeds.”

“You're in a lot of pain, aren’t you?”

Sighing, Freddie stopped playing the piano, and turned to look at her. “What makes you say that?”

“The way you act.”

“What do you mean?”

“You have that look in your eye. Like your spirit is already in hell, and you are waiting for your body to catch up.”

“What do you do with your time off? Write?”

“Yes Poetry.”

“If I had the energy, I could write a song about that line. Hmm, I might put Brian up to it. ‘Spirit is in hell, and you are waiting for your body to catch up.’ What did you study at the university? Psychology?”

“English.”

“Of course writer. What do you write about?”

“Love mostly, and you are changing the subject.”

Freddie smirked. “You're a ballsy little English student. Well if you must know, I have AIDS and it is like you don’t have an immune system, so it is catching every disease in the world and playing Russian Roulette to see if it kills you.”

“That is why everyone panics about you doing practically anything.”

“Hmm, you've noticed.”

“It’s hard not to. You fight loud.”

“The important thing to know is that you can’t get it unless my DNA gets into your DNA.”

“It's like Delilah and the cats.”

“Precisely.”

“Is Jim…”

“Jim’s fine.”

“But you can’t be together.”

“No, I can’t be with anyone.”

“I’m sorry. I mean, fuck, you dont want pity. What helps? Can anything help?”

Freddie turned to her. “Why haven't you run from me screaming or thrown Holy Water on me, or something? My god, my own father said I wouldn’t be dying if I was ‘normal’.”

“My brother and his… I don’t know what they call each other, boyfriend, I guess… have been together for five years now. I found out about a year into the relationship. It is the weirdest thing, I don’t understand it, but I have never seen him this happy. Not with a woman, not with anything. Anyway, his… damn I don’t know what the words are… Not my brother, but Micheal has it, and I have never seen Bobby so distressed. I don’t have a clue what to do.”

“First of all, I call Jim my husband, but if anyone asks or if it gets complicated, I call him my friend, people tend to understand.”

“Okay.”

“Second of all, ask what helps to keep him comfortable. Tell him anything is at your disposal. If you need anything ask me. But never force him to do anything. Personally, it's aggravating. Gain his trust. And it’s better to treat him like he is healthy and strong then he is weak and feeble. Believe me, no one wants to be told they are weak and feeble. I am sure you have heard the arguments.”

“Little bit.”

“As far as what to do for your brother, talk to Jim. I’ll tell him you have talked to me, and it is okay.”

“Thank you, Mr. Mercury.”

“No problem, Janet, and I am sorry I haven’t learned of that before.”

“Well, it's a personal matter.”

“Yes, it is.”


	41. Chapter 41

Freddie remembered his warning from Dr. Peters. Last Christmas was a given but this Christmas was unlikely. The album was almost finished but it was draining Freddie’s body so much that he could hardly stand to record the song anymore.

“Brian,” said Freddie sheepishly, one day at lunch when he was picking at his food.

“Yeah, Fred?”

“I’m sort of knackered. I think it’s this new medicine Peters has me on. Can we finish the album after he changes it and I get my energy back?” asked Freddie sheepishly.

Freddie expected some lecture about accepting your limits and more mother henning. But, Brian simply said, “Sure, I got some solo stuff I have been dying to work on, so now would be a good time for a break. Want a beer?”

And that was it. Freddie had no clue asking for help was that easy.

Freddie could relax a little when he was on break. In the back of his mind, he wanted to go back to the studio and work, but it was so nice just letting his body rest. He slept for long periods, and could finally eat whatever he wanted. Although everyone was worried about him, no one was mother henning him. Maybe, his mother was doing it quietly by monitoring what he could eat. She had a certain way of telling Freddie that something he wanted for breakfast was going to upset his stomach and to try something else. It would piss Freddie off, but his mother’s alternative was always mouthwatering, so he let it go.

Also, Jim was practically glued to Freddie’s side now. But not really in a mother henning way. They would stay in bed together and talk when Freddie had the energy, and then when Freddie was sleeping Jim would lay on his side and watch with his lover sleep. If occasionally, he played with Freddie’s hair, there were no witnesses, so no one had any proof.

One day, Freddie woke up from his nap and let out a small shutter.

“Stay warm, pet,” said Jim, pulling the sheets upon Freddie’s body. Jim snuggled close to his husband and rested his head on Freddie’s shoulder. 

“What time is it?”

“Three.”

“I’ve slept all-day,” sighed Freddie. “Why am I so damn tired?”

“I think it is a side effect of the medicine and your overworked pet,” said Jim kissing his temple. “Plus people get tired.”

“I think I need to stop,” said Freddie quietly.

Jim swallowed hard. “Stop what, pet?”

“Everything. The medicine. Fighting. Trying to live forever. I can’t take it anymore. We had a good run.”

“Please, pet-”

“I’m doing this, Jim.”

“That’s not what I am saying. I’m just asking that you don’t go off the pain medicine and the anti-nausea medicine. My last thoughts of you can’t be of your suffering. I’ll be beside myself until I die.”

Freddie snuggled close to Jim and kissed him on his now tear-strained cheek. “No, I won’t go off the pain medicine. I’m a proud son of a bitch, but I am not masochistic.”

“Thank you.”

“But I want off of the rest. Please. I can’t stand it anymore. Trying to live forever is so fucking exhausting and I can’t pretend that I even feel well enough to give a damn anymore.”

“I know,” said Jim. His breathing hitched. “I knew when we started that I was going to lose you eventually. It was just a matter of time. Everyone had a different way of dealing with this. Everyone’s plan was to keep you at home so you don’t catch anything. That was my method too at first, but now it’s become staying by your side and memorize every damn thing that you do. Like singing so much you lose your voice at Lu-Lu’s party or playing in the ocean at Brighton, or when you thought you lost Delilah and offered a thousand-pound award we found her in the bathroom and you screamed bloody murder because she was a bad cat for hiding from Daddy. And the first time I saw you perform in front of an audience. And Live Aid. I will never forget that as long as I live. We all have our ways of dealing with this and well mine is I want memories for the rest of my life.”

Freddie laughed. “You remember all that?”

“Yes. And I remember more than that. You, Freddie Mercury, are an adventure of a lifetime.”

“Mmm,” moaned Freddie. “If I hadn’t found you, I would have been so lost. I know I tell you there are parts of my soul where only Mary can touch, but there are also parts of my soul only you could touch. There were others. Several cheated on me, several wanted me for my money, and then Paul, well, Paul scared me, I guess. But with you, I-I-I wasn’t afraid to die, because I finally knew what it meant to live and be in love. We fought, we laughed, we hung onto each other’s every word, I’ve never felt like that before.” Freddie let out a sigh, then added, “I wish we had more time. I wish I could take you to Munich. You would have loved it there.”

“It’s not the place, pet,” said Jim. “It’s the people around you. That’s the adventure. You and I could have met in the seventh layer of hell, and we would have had an adventure.”

“We’re made in heaven.”

“I love that song too.”

“I’m sorry I have to call you my fucking gardner and you and Mary get in such rows all the time.”

“That reminds me I have to water the tulips.”

“Fuck you,” said Freddie, hitting Jim on the shoulder.

Jim kissed Freddie. “We were born in the wrong era. Give us a hundred years, and I would have made you a Hutton.”

“What? I would have made you a Mercury! There’s no way in hell I was going on stage a Hutton.”

“You can have a stage name.”

“No.”

“You mean to tell me after all these years you’re the man in the relationship?”

“Of course. I thought you knew that.”

“Oh Fuck you.”

“Get out of my bed.”

“Our bed.”

The men laid back on the pillows chuckling at their petty argument, their limbs intertwined with each other. Freddie sighed, and let his eyes close. Today, with Jim he felt loved and safe, and that’s all that mattered.


	42. Chapter 42

Freddie deteriorated rapidly when the doctor took him off the drugs in the second week of November. Christmas was out of the question, and now the prayer was that Freddie would make it to Thanksgiving. He ran a 103.8 fever that was climbing, he was breathing hard, couldn't keep anything on his stomach, his pulse was flying, and he could hardly open his eyes to speak to Peters he was so exhausted. Dr. Peters diagnosed him with pneumonia.

“I hate saying this,” said Peters downstairs to Jim and Mary, “But I think the only thing I can do for him this time is keep him comfortable.”

Mary sobbed in Jim’s arms, but then she started screaming, and hitting his chest. “You did this to him! You and your kind! If he was with me nothing would be wrong with him!”

“Mary!” cried Brian, taking her from Jim. “Mary, Mary, Mary, Shh! Shh!” Brian stroked her hair and Mary calmed down.

Jim stood there dumbfounded. He knew in his heart that he didn’t cause this horrible disease on Freddie, for Freddie had it before they got together. It is why he and Freddie had never been intimate. But the words still hurt. Because if Freddie didn’t love Jim, or any man, Freddie wouldn’t be suffering. Yes, Jim blamed himself for Freddie’s troubles.

“Freddie’s asking for you Jim,” said the doctor.

Mary stood there looking dumbfounded. “He was asking for the houseboy, not the love of his life?” she screamed, and lunged at Jim. Brian held her back, and pulled her back into her arms. Timidly, Jim walked into his and Freddie’s room and saw Freddie was sleeping on his side of the bed. However, when he got closer, he saw that he was awake.

“Hey, darling,” said Freddie hoarsely. “What was that about? Mary was screaming bloody murder. I could hear it from here. Delilah jumped off the bed.”

“Oh it was nothing Freddie. You know how people get when you are sick. The doctor says you have a fever and the first thing off her tongue is how long you got to live. She just got upset by the prognosis.”

“Don’t bullshit me Jim. You're horrible at it.”

“Well, It’s not good to have a wife and husband, Freddie. We get confused on who is your favorite.”

“Ah, god. What happened?”

“Nothing. Same old thing. You're sick, and everyone is cross with each other about how to take care of you.”

“Jim!”

“She blamed me for your illness, or my kind.”

“Your kind? Gay men?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought she respected my decision a long time ago! Why has she been my fucking friend all these years if she doesn’t like that I sleep with men?”

“Freddie, she is still in love with you.”

“Bullshit. She met Piers in 78 and bounced between him and me for two years, then when we broke up she went straight to him. She wasn’t heartbroken and lost for years like I was. I didn’t find happiness until I met you three years ago.”

“Freddie you two still aren’t on the same page. She is hopelessly in love with you.”

“I’m gay!”

“Well, then you're breaking her heart.”

“She broke mine.”

“Look you got to talk to her. It’s like when we went to America in search of a cure. Mary thinks in her mind that you two were made for each other. And maybe you were the way you two act together. But all I know is she is going to blame every man you ever slept with, including me, if she doesn’t get it through her head that- that-”

“This is a horrible disease and shit happens.”

“Well, yeah. Something like that.”

“Can you get her up here? I want you here too.”

Jim disappeared for a minute, and Freddie leaned back on the bed and pet Delilah.

“How am I supposed to do this?” asked Freddie to Delilah. “I live with my husband and my wife lives next door. In hindsight that was very stupid of me don’t you think, my girl?”

Delilah meowed, as if to say, “Yes, Daddy Freddie that was very stupid.”

Jim and Mary came through the door. Mary had tears in her eyes and Jim looked cross as all get out.

“How are you feeling?” sniffed Mary.

“Oh, what fresh hell is this?” cried Freddie. “Why are you crying?”

“He’s stealing you away,” cried Mary.

“She’s impossible,” said Jim at the same time.

“Your sick.”

“The whole household is fighting over how to take care of you.”

“You met me first.”

“We’re gay for Christ sake.”

“I’m your wife.”

“I’m your husband.”

“How about I divorce both of you?” fumed Freddie. “Will that solve anything?”

Mary and Jim both fell silent and hung their heads. They wanted Freddie healthy, not angry at them.

“Honest to God,” said Freddie. “This has got to stop! If you two hate each other, then don’t talk to each other. Mary, move away. Jim, mind your own business. I barely have enough energy to lift my head up and talk in complete sentences, let alone keep people from fighting. My god I did it for twenty years with Queen. Roger was the hot headed one, Deaky was the child, Brian was the smart ass, and I was the fucking adult! Now, apparently I have double pneumonia, and this is the last couple of weeks of my life, so God as my witness, you two will get along or you will get the fuck out! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!”

Mary and Jim just stood there looking at Freddie, who albeit a mild mannered man, looked like he was about to throw something at one of their heads. Jim put his hands up in surrender.

“Okay, Freddie,” he said. “We’re leaving. We’ll stop arguing. Do you want anything, some soup, some pain medicine?”

“Vodka,” said Freddie.

“Okay,” said Jim. “I’ll get you some Vodka, and then do you want to get some sleep?”

“Will you keep it down?”

“Of course, Freddie,” said Mary. “Good night.”

“Vodka then sleep,” promised Jim.

Jim brought the Vodka and Freddie drank it. He did apologize for yelling, and Jim laughed and tucked him in. Freddie went into a peaceful slumber.


	43. Chapter 43

Freddie felt like he couldn’t breathe. He kept trying to open his eyes but it was so hard. He was hot and cold at the same time. He heard voices all around him but they seem like a thousand miles away and even if he screamed he could be heard by them. “How is he?” said his father. “This isn’t good,” said Peters. “Would he be better in a hospital?” asked his mom. “It’s against his wishes,” said Peters. “To hell with that!” said his father. “Papa, leave Freddie alone,” said Kashmira. Freddie wanted to say thanks to Kashmina, but he couldn't move his mouth to form the words. And he went into the darkness.

* * *

He woke up again later to the boys singing “Fat Bottom Girls” harmonizing in his room. Then suddenly, someone started to cry. 

“Hey,” said Brian. “It’s okay.”

“Yeah,” said Roger. “Let it out, John.”

“Boys, I know we said we would try, but I can’t. Please don’t hate me. But I can’t do this.”

“What are you talking about Deaky?” said Roger.

“I don't think,” said Deaky quietly. “I could ever go on stage or in a recording booth without Freddie.”

The boys were silent for a moment.

“It’s okay John,” said Roger. “Freddie will understand. Besides, Queen is forever.”

“Yeah,” said Brian. “Queen is forever.”

Freddie sunk into the darkness mourning the death of his band and murmuring to himself over and over “Queen is forever.”

* * *

“I’ve read the will,” said Mary, “as I am sure you have.”

“He’s not dead yet, Mary,” said Jim running his fingers through Freddie’s hair. Freddie would never forget that feeling.

“I know he is not dead yet, you mongrel!”

“You're not my boss, bitch!”

Freddie wanted them to scream to stop fighting, but he couldn’t move.

“I have the house,” she said. “You will have a month to move after the date on his death certificate.”

“I’ll take my money and go,” said Jim. “Trust me I want nothing to do with the lot of ya.”

“Jim,” said Mary, “I thought you were treated well here. Room and board, handsome wage.”

“Yeah, but we all knew you were the love of his life and I was an afterthought. Well, I hope it burns you up that he wanted to see me come out of the shower, and he bought you your own damn house.”

Mary huffed.

“Stop,” moaned Freddie.

“Go,” said Mary. “You’ve upset him.”

Jim didn’t move.

“As long as he’s alive you're still the help. Go!”

Jim got up and walked out of the room.

Mary ran her fingers through Freddie’s hair, but he moaned and thrashed away.

“Jim,” Freddie moaned. “Jim.”

Sighing, Mary got up and Jim pranced back into the room and stuck his tongue out at Mary. Mary walked away.

“Hey pet,” whispered Jim.

Freddie moaned. “Don’t go.”

“I’m right here.”

* * *

The next time he woke up he heard a lullaby. It was something he hadn’t heard since he was young. He forced his eyes to open to see if it was Kasmira or his mom singing because they sounded so alike now. He finally saw his mom in the chair by his bed crocheting and singing. He smiled.

“I got my voice from you mom,” he whispered.

She smiled, and came over and kissed his forehead. “My little Freddie,” she said, ruffling his hair.

* * *

The next time he woke up, he heard the rustling of newspaper and someone was reading. 

“It’s a cold November day, the day before the American thanksgiving,” read Jim Beach. “The high is 53 the low is 42, and it is cloudy with an 80% chance of rain.”

“Miami,” said Freddie.

“Yes sir,” said Miami.

“I’m sorry I changed your name. That is like someone making fun of my teeth or calling me from Pakistan.”

“Not at all,” said Beach. “You give nicknames to your friends.”

“Yes, we are friends,” said Freddie.

“Sir, I’m sorry I didn’t protect you from…”

“Miami, it’s over.”

“Sir, I am a gentleman, but if I find out Prenter gave this to you I will hunt him down and kill him.”

“He died two months ago of the virus.”

Miami sighed, “Well on one hand I hate to see anyone suffer from this horrible disease. But on the other hand, the bastard hurt you, and it was probably better than what I was going to do to him.”

“Miami!”

“Oh between Roger and I, it was going to be positively despicable, sir. No one harms my friends.”

“Yes, we’re friends.”

* * *

Someone was taking his pulse, and Freddie had a thermometer in his mouth. Freddie opened his eyes and saw the warm smile of Doctor Peters looking over him. Taking the thermometer out.

“How do you feel?”

“I’m exhausted.”

“Well, you're sick.”

“I’m dying, aren’t I?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not scared to die. But I am scared to leave. The band is going to be a mess. Suddenly Mary and Jim want to kill each other. Then there is my family. Apparently, you never get over losing a child. Miami suddenly thinks I got AIDS because I got raped by Printer, and he feels horrible. What do I do? I need a month. I can’t die. This whole thing will go to hell without me. All these idiots have been mother henning me, and I haven’t been mother henning them.”

“Freddie, everything is going to be fine. You have to believe that the world is going to keep spinning without you.”’

“I want to die in peace. Get Miami up here.”

* * *

“Are you sure sir?” asked Miami.

“Please,” said Freddie.

“Alright, we will issue a statement.”

“Don’t name anyone. Just make it about me.”

“Of course, Sir.”


	44. Epilogue

“Freddie,” came a man’s voice that Freddie never heard.

Freddie moaned and tossed in the covers.

The man chuckled. “Freddie, wake up darling. Your fever’s gone.”

Freddie’s eyes fluttered open and he woke up in a white hospital room. There were no monitors on him, for which he was grateful, but he was pissed at Peters for putting him here.

“Where am I?” demanded Freddie.

“Rehabilitation center.”

“What?”

“You died. Pneumonia. Peters did all he could. You spent the night here. How do you feel?”

“I’m dead.”

“Yes.”

“Who are you?”

“I have many names. You tend to take it in vain.”

“Your God?”

“Yes.”

Freddie shuddered.

“It’s a lot to take in,” said God.

“Is everyone going to be alright?”

“Deaky-”

“You know we call him Deaky?”

“I know everything,” said God. “Deaky will lose the desire to perform without you and become part of the managerial and financial responsibilities with Beach. The band won't perform for a while, but eventually they will do a tribute concert to you with a man named George Micheal. They will go on several tribute concerts before George dies of cancer. Then they will take a break for a while, and they will pick up a man named Adam Lambert. You will like Adam. He is a lot like you on stage.”

“Will the boys be alright?”

“Well, I got to tell you Freddie. They loved you like a brother. It will be hard for Deaky to perform without you, and Brian will become very depressed in his grief, but don’t worry, nothing will hurt him. And Roger, well, Roger will cope in his own way.”

“What about Mary and Jim?”

“Well, they can't stay in the same room. Mary will get the house, and never have any need nor will her children, and Jim will move to Ireland. But both of them will be okay. They will miss you terribly.”

Freddie frowned. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Yes.”

“Was I supposed to be with Mary or Jim?” 

“Don’t worry about it, take it a day at a time. They will fight over you when they get here.”

“Did...did you make me gay?”

“Yes,” said God. “I designed every part of you.”

“Why? To give me hell?”

God blinked. “To give you enjoyment. Do you know how complex a personality is? I mean create someone who is shy around his friends, but can have an audience of 100,000 people eating out of his hand in five minute by doing warm ups. I’m quite proud of my handiwork with you.”

“So what did making me gay do?”

“It gave you Jim for one thing.”

“Okay.”

“It taught you how to love. You were just a teenager when you met Mary. With Jim you learned how to argue without giving up on a relationship.”

“Yes.”

“It taught you self-worth. You demanded faithfulness and respect in every relationship, and if you didn’t get it, you left the person.”

“Yeah. But, my dad had a point. I mean wouldn’t it be easier to make me normal?”

God sighed. “This is why I tell people to watch their mouths. That was Christmas, a year ago, and you remember the exact words he said.” God sighed again. “You see Freddie everyone has a flaw, multiple flaws, and your father thinks everyone should see life his way. That is not the way I designed life. Even from the beginning, people had a choice to do what they wanted with their bodies. Now of course there are somethings I can not allow, like what Paul Prenter did to you, or murder, or harming children. But I made an original 6,000 years ago, I did not make a normal.”

Freddie let out a sob. 

“You my dear son,” said God, cupping Freddies face and looking him in the eyes. “Are exactly who I intended you to be. Freddie Fucking Mercury.” 

God pulled the covers off and helped Freddie stand up. Strangely Freddie had all his strength back. 

“Come on,” said God, walking out the door.

“Where are we going?” asked Freddie.

“‘Bohemian Rhapsody’,” God said over his shoulder, “my choir struggles with the operatic section.”

Freddie’s jaw dropped. “You want me to teach angels to sing?”

God turned back to the door, and looked at Freddie like he had just discovered math. “Well, why do you think I created you? Queen was just a rehearsal, darling. You are going to do a lot of work in eternity. Come on.”

Speechless Freddie followed God who led him towards the sounds of melodic voices.

“I’m gonna need some help,” cried Freddie. “And Vodka.”

“I’ll see to all that you need. I promise. You're one of my favorites.”


End file.
